


Two Knights and a Pawn

by itchyfingers



Category: Charles Brandon - Fandom, Guy of Gisborne - Fandom, Henry Cavill - Fandom, Richard Armitage - Fandom, Robin Hood (BBC 2006), The Tudors
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Love, Love Triangle, Marriage, Political Intrigue, Romance, Sex, Theology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Robin Hood BBC x Tudors crossover.<br/>Politics is always a deadly game in the court of Henry VIII, but when the betrothed of an up-and-coming knight is also the Duke of Suffolk’s next conquest, the deaths may not all come by the executioner’s hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, stood against the wall, a cup of wine in one hand, watching the movements of those gathered at court this evening. The volume of the omnipresent drone of conversation rose and fell over the steady accompaniment of music and dancing. People ate at long tables as servants moved back and forth with platters of food and jugs of wine. Candlelight sparkled off of jewels set into hair, draped around necks and pinned to clothing, and the combined scent of bodies, food, and perfume gave the room a cloying closeness despite its large size. Even with the constant movement to entertain him, his eyes always made their way back to where Henry sat. The tension between them was still simmering. Charles knew that just because he had been allowed back to court that he had not been forgiven for marrying Margaret, the king’s sister, without permission.

He sighed as he thought of his wife. Margaret refused to come to court as long as Anne was being paraded about as the king’s mistress, and so she had remained behind in Suffolk, administering the estate. Marrying her had been a mistake. He could admit that to himself and to almost no one else. Sir William Compton, one of the few people who knew of Charles’s impetuous nature when it came to women and love, stood by his side, also watching the assembled crowds, though with a much more relaxed air about him. His friendship with the king, though not as close as that enjoyed by Brandon, was much more peaceful.

Charles motioned to the figures swirling around the dance floor. “Who is that beauty in the green dress? I don’t remember seeing her before.”

William followed the line of Charles’s gaze. “Ah, your eye for loveliness has not abandoned you in your absence from court. That’s the Duke of Greymont’s daughter, Sabine.”

“I didn’t realize Greymont had a daughter.” He watched as she switched partners as the dance progressed. Even from this distance he could tell her eyes were blue, with dark hair held back by a delicate tiara of rubies and pearls. She had a full mouth that a poet would have compared to a rose or some succulent fruit, but he wasn’t interested in being a poet. He simply wanted to feel those lips part for him.

William laughed. “I think he had quite forgotten himself. Apparently she’s been in a convent since her mother died when she was seven.”

“That came out of a convent? I should become more devout. Why did her father fetch her out now?”

William shrugged and finished off the wine in his cup and waved to a passing steward for a refill. He kept the jug and refilled Charles’s cup before placing it on the window sill. Charles wasn’t sure why he expected William to know. Neither one of them paid much attention to court gossip, much more interested in the food and the fun than the politics. “Marry her off, I should imagine. You know Greymont, always seeking to further his own interests. If Henry wasn’t so damn fool besotted with Anne, I would have suspected him of throwing her at the king as a potential brood mare for a son.”

Charles scanned the room, looking for the latest in a long string of the king’s mistresses. He found her dancing with another man and raised his cup in her direction. “Well, for the first time I can honestly say thank God and the Virgin for Anne.”

William watched as Charles’s eyes made their way back to Sabine. “Charles, you cannot seriously be thinking of going after Sabine yourself. You’re married!”

“So are you and I don’t see that’s stopped you from chasing after a regular parade of skirts.”

“I’m not married to the king’s sister.”

A frown passed over his expressive features at the reminder. “No, you’re not. My life would be so much easier if you were.”

William turned around so he wouldn’t be overheard. “This isn’t like you fucking Buckingham’s daughter,” he hissed at Charles. “Greymont is a great ally to the king and one of his most important military leaders. You get caught and there will be consequences this time, especially with you still out of favor.”

He grinned before throwing back another mouthful of wine. “Then I’ll have to be very careful about not getting caught, won’t I? It adds a bit of excitement to the old game.”

William ran a hand through his short hair, giving up on arguing Charles out of it at this point. He knew his friend too well. “I don’t think seducing someone raised by The Sisters of the Holy Maidenhead or whatever they called themselves is going to be quite as easy as you expect.”

“Beautiful and innocent and completely unused to men? She’s not going to have a single defense against what I can do. She’ll be like fruit so ripe for the plucking that she’ll fall into my open hand at the slightest touch.”

William downed the rest of his wine and poured himself another cup. He slapped his friend on the back. “Charles, I’m glad you’re back at court. You’re a never ending source of entertainment to those of us who can think with our brain.”

“Shut up and come join the dancing.”

You weren’t really supposed to talk during the dances, especially to someone you didn’t know, so Charles simply made sure he was partnered close enough to her that as the partners shifted, she would end up dancing with him, and situated William next to her, trusting in him not to be competition for the lady’s favors. Even while he was dancing with other women, he kept an eye on her. For being raised in a convent, she knew the dance steps perfectly and was dressed impeccably. A gold and ruby cross hung on a short strand of pearls around her neck, while a longer strand dipped down inside the front of her bodice. It was a particularly enticing fashion and he wanted to follow that necklace of pearls and see how far down it extended against her skin.

There was another partner change and now she gently rested her fingers on his hand. He smiled at her, as charming a smile as he could manage, and was gratified to see her polite smile soften into a more realistic one. They turned away from each other to face the front of the room, and as they stepped forward three paces, he brushed his thumb over her fingers. Her pace faltered for the first time though she quickly regained the step, and as they turned to face each other again, her cheeks were a deeper shade of pink than a few moments prior. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked at him and he smiled at her again. Her own smile was hesitant, but he dared to stroke his thumb over her fingers again, and watched her necklaces rise as she sharply inhaled. He raised an eyebrow at her, letting her know that she could stop his flirtations with a single shake of her head, but after a few more notes of music sounded, her fingers tightened slightly on his hand. His smile increased and she ducked her head before looking back up at him, her lips full and rosy and smiling.

He passed her on to her next partner then, but for the rest of the dance, he would look over at her and frequently find that she was glancing at him as well. She would blush each time she got caught, but it didn’t stop her from doing it again. He would grin at her in return and the color would deepen even more. One time he noticed her biting her bottom lip as she jerked her eyes away. The music eventually came to an end and he nodded to his partner before returning to his place along the wall, leaning against the cool stone. William joined him, shaking his head all the while. “It’s a good think I’m not interested in her for myself or I might hate you. She kept looking at you while we danced together.”

Charles looked over to where Sabine now stood talking with another woman. Sabine nodded in his direction and the other woman turned to look at him. He smiled and nodded his head, and the woman whispered something into Sabine’s ear. Her smile faded along with the color in her cheeks as she listened and then she turned away, leaving him staring at her back.

William laughed and clapped Charles on the back. “I think you were just dismissed from the lady’s good graces.”

“What could that woman have possibly told her?”

“Perhaps that you’re married? To the king’s sister?”

Charles looked at William in confusion. “Why should that cause her to dismiss me out of hand? It simply means we would have to be discrete about things.”

“Is there something about ‘raised in a convent’ that you aren’t quite comprehending? I have more than a niggling suspicion that things like marital fidelity and virginity and all those things that don’t matter to you have more than feather’s weight of meaning to her.”

Charles looked back at Sabine and the woman she was talking to. The woman gave him a disapproving frown and Charles raised his glass to her and smiled. This was just the opening gambit in his game.

>< 

Sabine leaned over to whisper in her cousin’s ear. “Who is that man I was dancing with?”

Lady Agnes had been at court for years and knew everything and everyone. She had taken the arrival of Sabine as a personal challenge, drilling her in dancing and court protocol for a month while she had a whole new wardrobe made, before allowing her father to present her for the first time. “Which one, dear? You’ve danced with half the court tonight.”

The one against the wall over there, tall with dark hair and very handsome, dressed in red.”

Agnes looked where Sabine had gestured with a faint nod of her head and found the man so described. She whispered back, “That’s the Duke of Suffolk. He’s married to the king’s sister.”

The warm feeling that had been glowing in her bosom was extinguished like a candle in a gust of wind and she turned her back on the man that had so captivated her attention on the dance floor. “Why would he flirt like he did if he is married?”

Agnes patted Sabine’s hand gently. For all the education she had gained with the sisters, there were some things about which the girl was dreadfully naïve. “Not every man who shows interest in a woman is looking for a marriage, child. Some want a less permanent dalliance.”

“Well,” she raised her chin, “he shall have to look somewhere else.” She had been warned about the ravening clutches of men before she had left the convent and the only family she had known for the past thirteen years but it wasn’t until the last few weeks at court that she truly began to understand what that meant. Men were distant creatures in her experience. She had seen them rarely, and the only ones she had ever been in close contact with were priests. Now she was surrounded by them and was learning that ravening clutches were frequently disguised behind charming smiles and pretty words. She was no fool; she knew that her father’s sudden filial interest in her wellbeing meant that he was looking to marry her where it would do the most good to his personal ambition. Still, she had hoped that it would be possible to love the man her father chose for her, and deep in the secret chambers of her heart, she wished that he might be handsome as well, though she knew that worldly interests like that were foolish, if not sinful. Unfortunately the men her father kept talking to were either old or ugly or both. They also had an unsettling tendency to look at her like a freshly roasted capon. This was her inheritance as a woman though, and one she prayed for the grace and patience to accept. She would marry the man her father chose for her and bear her husband sons. Right now, she wished for a return to the convent and her quiet cell. The food was not so delicious or plentiful, but it was quieter there, and it did not pain her heart the way life at court seemed to, delivering a new bruise daily.

>< 

Sabine walked into her father’s library to return a book she had borrowed and was startled to find him there at this time of day, especially with a man she had never seen before. The stranger was dressed in riding leathers and had a stern face. A strong nose above thin lips gave him an unforgiving profile, softened only by the black waves of his hair that fell almost to his shoulders. Both men rose as she came to a sudden halt. “I’m so sorry for my intrusion, Father. I wasn’t aware you were in here. I’ll come back later.”

“No child. Come in. I want you to meet my guest.”

She obeyed her father, still intimidated by the giant of a man. He had been huge when she was a child, and now as an adult he still maintained that bulky stature. His brown hair was streaked with grey as well as his bushy beard.

“This is Sir Guy of Gisborne. I fought with his father on one of my French campaigns. His father was a good man and a great soldier. Saved my life on more than one occasion. There was that business where we got caught scouting behind enemy lines and had to hide in a barn together. Never will forget him waking up to a pig trying to,” he coughed as he realized this wasn’t the most appropriate memory to share. “Yes, well, there was some unfortunateness with his death and Guy has been on the continent for many years. He’s come back to England and he shall be staying here with us as my personal secretary for a while and perhaps I could convince him to squire me at the next joust and I shall take the prize.”

Sabine had never seen a joust, but her brother had died in a jousting accident. She had been informed of this in a letter when she was ten. “Father, you cannot possibly be considering jousting at your age.”

“Why not? What of my age?” He pounded a meaty fist against his chest. “I know more about military strategy than half of the court put together, and I’ve fought with a lance in actual combat, unlike these new men who think it only a sport.”

Sabine shrank back from his bluster and waving hands. “Yes, father. Forgive me.”

He huffed and settled the chain around his shoulders into its proper place again. “Sir Guy, this is my youngest daughter Sabine. Forgive her lack of manners. Apparently they taught her to speak freely of her opinions in the convent, even when she has no knowledge of what she is discussing.”

Sabine’s cheeks burned but she dropped her head as she curtsied to the man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Guy. Welcome to our home. I hope your stay here is peaceful and happy.”

Her father snorted again. “Peaceful. Peace is boring girl. Don’t wish peace down upon all of us.”

“As for me, I thank you, my lady. It has been too long since peace and happiness have been my companions.”

His voice was as dark as his hair and as rough as his hand as he took hers and bowed over it. Too bad he was poor and a friend of her father. Being poor made him an unsuitable match by her father’s standards. Being a friend of her father made him an unsuitable match by hers. He was certainly handsome enough in a stern way, though she doubted he was actually capable of smiling. His face seemed like it had set in that almost scowl like wet leather left to dry in the sun.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see that a room is arranged for you and let the cook know we will have an additional person at dinner.”

He nodded and she hurriedly returned the book to its proper place on the shelf before she scurried from the room.

That night over dinner, she attempted to draw their new guest into conversation. “Sir Guy, Father said you have just recently returned to England. Where were you previously?”

He paused in his eating, a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. “I was most recently in Germany.”

She nodded to one of the servants to refill the wine glasses. “And is the Lutheran heresy still allowed to prosper there?”

The candle light flickered in the breeze from an open window, throwing the stark planes of his face into a variety of distorted masks. “Ay, and it will continue to do so for as long as there is political gain for the German lords in protecting the man.”

Her eyes darted to her father, but he was busy gorging himself on the meal the cook had arranged. There was food enough for half a dozen men in her estimation, but she doubted there would be enough left over for to fill a pie. The conversation fell to her to continue. “This should not be a matter of politics. It is a matter of eternal truth and the power of Rome to provide the sacraments necessary for the salvation of the soul.”

The corner of Guy’s mouth tilted in a smirk. “To you, maybe. But to the German lords it’s about the pope in Rome thinking he gets rule over everything, and if Luther weakens Rome’s power over the local churches, they think it will strengthen their own claims against Imperial authority in their own domains. There’s a lot of money going to Rome and the Emperor that could otherwise be finding its way into their own tax coffers.”

Sabine set down her eating utensils. How could this man have travelled through the German principalities and not seen the danger this man presented? Was he deaf and blind? “Luther is a heretic, and the Pope will always be the head of Christendom, no matter how much his royal subjects kick against the pricks.”

Guy took a drink of wine. If she hadn’t known he was constitutionally incapable of smiling, she would have suspected that he did it to hide his amusement at her argument. He dabbed his mouth with the napkin from his lap before he turned to her again. “It makes no matter to me, lady. I go to church on Sunday and I say my prayers and I leave the arguments up to those who know the gospels better than I. If Luther wins out in the end, it doesn’t change who God is.”

“But it does matter!” Sabine insisted.

“Sabine!” her father bellowed. “I’m starting to think I left you in that damn nunnery a decade too long. Too bad your embroidery isn’t as skillful as your tongue.”

“My embroidery has never brought a word of condemnation from you or from anyone else, Father, even when it’s on the napkins that you’re currently using to wipe your face.” Greymont looked down at his coat of arms elaborately picked out in silk threads against the linen. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find that my hunger has abated.”

Greymont waved dismissively as Sabine pushed her chair away from the table, not waiting for permission or help with the heavy wooden seat. Gisborne rose as she stood and inclined his head at her. She made the shortest curtsey etiquette would allow and walked quietly from the room, waiting until she was out of view before she picked up her skirts and ran for the small chapel at the east end of the house. She threw herself down on the padded kneeler and bent forward, kissing the feet of the Virgin Mary statue, a tear dropping off her flushed cheek, before grasping the jeweled cross that dangled from the end of her girdle. “Please Mary, for the love I have for you and your son, Jesus Christ, please let me go back home. I know he is my father but this is not my home, and I long to leave the world of men where politics is more important than truth and faithfulness is set to mock and scorn. Please Mary, let me go back to the nunnery.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sabine knelt in the enormous cathedral, her hands clasped in front of her, worrying the beads of her rosary as she prayed. Even the familiar prayers sounded foreign to her in this new place. It was too large, the ceiling too high, and her whispered phrases were not strong enough to reach the exalted heights where the Father might hear her, or even the Virgin. Eventually, she gave up and simply listened to the organist practice. The music captured her feelings perfectly, melancholy and imperfect, as the composer worked through a section that was troubling him, searching for the notes that would make the entire section work together and soar. Right now, it hobbled like a bird with a broken wing, much like her prayers.

Her meditation was interrupted by someone kneeling next to her. She opened her eyes to see the Duke of Suffolk , his arms resting on the bench in front of them, his eyes closed in prayer. Sabine darted a glance around the rest of the cathedral. It was empty, except for a few priests going about their duties. She looked at Suffolk again, trying to ignore his handsomeness, and the way the plume in his hat stood out in soft contrast to the hair on his chin. Both seemed designed to elicit a desire to touch them and her palms itched around the beads of her rosary. She pressed her hands to the bench to help herself stand and his hand closed softly over hers.

“Please do not go, my lady.” His husky whisper caused Sabine to falter in her movement and Charles pressed his advantage. “I would not want to interrupt your devotions.”

His voice had the same effect on her as his hat. She wanted to listen to his words but she knew temptation when it presented itself and drew herself upright. “And yet you have come here with the intent to do so. I have prayed here many days at this hour and I have never seen you until now. This church is empty and yet you come to pray at my side. Do not defile this sacred space with your lies or insult my intelligence with them either.”

“Very well. I admit I have sought you out.” He stayed kneeling, looking up at her trembling with righteous anger. “You have abandoned court in the last week since we danced, and yet you have occupied my mind daily.”

His smile was bewitching and she found herself flush with the desire to confess that she had thought about him as well, though she did not think he would receive pleasure from knowing that her remembered fascination with the effect of his touch was always accompanied by anger at the lightness of his motives. “I find court a very foolish place. It holds no attraction for me.”

“It has been robbed of its chiefest attraction by your absence, my lady.”

Sabine rubbed her thumb over the rosary clutched in her sweating palm, praying for the Virgin to douse the fires his words ignited in her heart. “You are married, your grace.

“Yes. It was a terrible mistake. Tell me, righteous maiden, if I may gain forgiveness for a sin, why may I not also gain forgiveness for a simple mistake?”

Sabine felt her heart racing and her fingers trembled before laced them together, trying to remain calm in the face of his near blasphemy. “Is that what you think marriage is? A simple mistake?”

“When it is to the wrong woman, yes.”

Her eyes flared wide to hear him admit with his own tongue that he did not honor his wife. “And how did it come to pass that you married the wrong woman? Were you ordered by your father, for I have heard the story and know that you were not ordered by your king.”

His cheeks flushed at her pointed attack and he looked down for the first time. Sabine inhaled deeply, feeling capable of breathing fully for the first time since he had looked up at her, exposing his strong neck to her sight. “No. And that is where I made my mistake. I did not seek permission to court her. Instead I was led astray by the lusts of the flesh.”

His evident remorse tempered her anger and she felt moved by pity for him. He had been raised in the wicked environment of battlefields and royal courts, influenced primarily by a man who would blatantly keep his mistress on show to the shame and hurt of his wife. It was no wonder that he had not learned righteous ways of behaving. “That sounds more like a sin than a mistake,” she said softly.

He looked up at her again. “Then what should I do, gentle lady, to make things right? I have sought forgiveness from the king who I wronged. I prayed to be led aright, that I may not repeat such a mistake again, and you appeared to me in the court where the king forgave me, like an answer to my prayer. Will you take pity on me, bright angel, and answer my prayer?”

“How am I to do such a thing? What of your wife?”

“She is part of my sinful past.” He reached for her hand and Sabine did not draw it back as his fingers closed around it. “Let her not keep me from learning righteousness by your touch.”

Sabine had seen similar looks of supplication in the past, but never directed at her. They had always been on the faces of those praying at the feet of the Virgin or the saints. How could she refuse this man his prayer when she was seeking blessings herself? Could she expect her prayers to be answered when she did not act in mercy to answer those of others? She withdrew her hand from his grasp and carefully and slowly unwound her rosary from around her fingers. “I am a sinner and as a woman am not fit to teach you anything but perhaps I can serve to point you to those who can.” She took his hand and pressed the string of enameled beads with a silver cross into his palm and then closed his fingers over it. “You must pray and learn to desire righteousness for its own sake, not as a tool for your own purposes.”

She could not seem to let go of his hand and her lowered his head to kiss her fingers. “I will do as you say, my lady.”

His kiss caused a tremor to race through her, like the night that a lightning bolt had hit the old oak that sheltered the convent, splitting it in two right down to the roots. “See that you do, your grace.” He let go of her hand and she gave in to the urge to touch the grey plume in his hat, letting her fingertips graze against the fluffy vanes. They were as soft as they appeared. She blushed hotly as she saw him smile at her girlish gesture and curtsied. “Good day, your grace.”

“Good day, my angel.”

Another wave of heat threatened to swamp her and she hurried down the aisle, fleeing the duke and his dangerous smile.  She paused at the doors to the enormous building and looked back to find him still kneeling, his head bent in prayer. She could just make out her rosary wrapped around his hand.

Charles knelt for long after he knew she had left, wondering at what point he had started to believe the words he had told her. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head all week but it hadn’t been her sweet smile or the telling flush of her cheek when she looked at him that had haunted him. It had been the way her smile had faded away and the light in her eyes had been blown out when she realized the truth of him. He was a disappointment to her, even a source of pain, and that simply would not do.

>< 

Sir Guy approached the lady Sabine quietly as she sat at her embroidery frame, her maidservant sitting at a smaller frame on the opposite side of the room. The sunlight glinted off of her needle as she worked and shone on the simple jewelry she wore. He supposed it was proof of too many years on the battlefield that he preferred her like this, in a simple gown and delicately trimmed partlet, to the nights she was adorned for court. Greymont had presented him at court and insisted that he attend regularly, delighting in introducing him to the other men he knew, and spending hours discussing past battles and future glories.

Guy had been surprised to receive a letter from Greymont while employed in the household guard of a German prince, apologizing for never having contacted him before and asking him to serve in his household. When Guy had enquired of the duke why he had not made this offer when Guy had sent him a letter after the death of his father when help had been so desperately needed, Greymont regretfully and with heavy heart informed him that the letter had never been received, but that he was determined to make it up to the son of the man who had been like a brother to him. Guy knew this was his best chance for ever acquiring land of his own again and being more than just a roaming knight and so he had accepted this chance to serve the duke and wait for the opportune moment to reestablish himself as part of the landed nobility.

Sabine looked up as he approached. There was a face that made his time here pleasant and painful all at once. He had no hope of her ever being his wife; she was much too highly ranked for that, but she was beauty and spirit altogether; all he could have ever dreamed of. Even if the barriers of rank were not there, he knew she was too good and full of virtue to ever consider a man such as him, who had committed the atrocities of daily life as a sell-sword, to be worth anything but to be trodden underfoot. And yet her sweet spirit bade her smile when she saw him.

“Good morning, Sir Guy. Come to see if my embroidery has improved enough for my father’s tastes?”

They had not talked much since that night as the only time they were together was when her father was also there, and she seemed to have learned to be quiet around him, so he was not sure if she was teasing him or not. “No, my lady. I am not fit to judge your work. My hands are so rough that they are not even fit to touch it in case I might snag the threads.”

Sabine stabbed her needle into the fabric and walked over to him. “Are they as rough as that? Let me see.”

His hand tightened around his wrist behind his back. “My lady, you need not worry about my hands.”

“Sir Guy, it is my job while here to run my father’s household, and as you are part of his household, I shall worry about your hands if I choose. Now let me see them.”

Guy could not have disobeyed her order any more than he could have disobeyed a commanding officer, though her voice was much more sweet. He held out one of his hands to her and she took it in her smaller ones before she brushed a few fingers over his palm and fingertips. “Swordplay, horse reins and hard weather, I would say?”

He felt dumb as she looked up at him with blue eyes like wildflowers and so he simply nodded an answer.

“Well, I imagine you should keep the sword callouses, but I believe I can do something about the other two and we’ll get your hands smooth enough where you’ll be able to touch whatever you want without fear.”

The muscle in Guy’s jaw twitched and he smirked. If those words had come from a woman less innocent, he would have considered them flirtation. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Now, if it wasn’t to check on my embroidery, what brings you here this morning?”

He took his other hand out from behind his back. “I purchased this book for his grace’s library, and I think you might enjoy reading it.”

Sabine took the volume and opened it to its title page. “ _Assertio Septem Sacramentorum._ ” She looked up at him as lines creased her forehead. “This is the book the king wrote attacking Luther.”

“Yes. After our dinner the first night I was here, I had the impression that such matters interested you.”

She closed the book and hugged it to her chest. “They do, greatly. I did not think they interested you or my father, however.”

“Your father is a practical man, content to leave these matters to those who are not born to the battlefield.” He did not add that he had  no interest in them at all, other than as a means to talk to her.

“And yet you bought this book for his library anyway.”

“I have not been here long, but I have learned that he likes to give the impression that he is as well educated as anyone in England, and he boasts of the largest library in London other than that of the king. Even if he does not read it, he will want to own it.”

She looked back down at the treatise, stroking the smooth leather of the binding. “You understand my father better than I do, it seems.”

“I am constantly in his company, and I think you attempt to avoid it without making it seem like you are.”

“Am I so unsuccessful in my efforts?” She could not make herself look up at him again to see his judgment of her behavior.

He clasped his hands behind his back to keep from touching her in an attempt to reassure her. The tips of her ears had turned red, giving away her feelings even if she hid her face from him. “No. When you make a living moving from place to place, always trying to fit in, you learn to observe the smallest details and give them weight where others would not even see.”

“As I am no more than a very valuable cow to my father, I attempt to only be with him when he would want a side of beef; at the dinner table when we have guests and when he is trying to sell me to the highest bidder.”

That explained why she had been so quiet at dinner the last several nights. He thought he had severely offended her that first night by having a differing opinion. “You want more of your father’s attention?”

“I would like to be more than a cow. Just because I am a woman does not mean I cannot think and talk for myself.”

The edge of her tongue was as sharp as his sword.  “You have proven that to be true.”

She was no longer making an effort to hide her emotions from him and her eyes crackled with fire as she met his gaze. “And does it make you want to bellow and rage and tell me to be quiet?”

“No. It makes me want to ask you another question so you will yell at me some more.” Jousting with her was a true delight. He would not think about putting her tongue to a different sort of play.

That riposte had left her flailing for balance. Her brow wrinkled in confusion again. “Are you one of those strange men who enjoy being berated by women?”

“No, but I’m afraid I never learned the art of polite conversation. I have no idea of what else to say to a lady, but I know if I get her mad she will continue talking indefinitely and relieve me of my end of the discussion.”

He thought that blow well landed, but she turned the attack and landed one of her own without even realizing she had a sword in her hand. “Well, I shall add your conversational skills to the list of things to worry about.”

Her laughter left him disarmed. “My lady, please don’t concern yourself.”

“Nonsense.” She put the book on the table and sat back down at her embroidery frame. “You must learn how to talk to a girl if you are to find yourself a wife.”

“A wife?” Where was this line of attack leading?

She pulled the needle from the fabric and went back to carefully setting tiny stitches in the linen. “Well, yes.” Again that perplexed look on her face. “You want a wife don’t you?”

“Of course. Eventually.” He felt as clumsy in this conversation as he had promised, not knowing what to say now that she was not arguing with him. “But I would need some way of supporting a wife before I go about getting one.”

“Well, my father pays you a stipend and I shall teach you how to talk with a lady, and by the time you’ve saved enough to have a household of your own, you shall know how to get yourself a wife to install in it.”

“As you say, my lady.” Guy had never fled a battlefield before, but he bowed and retreated from this one.

>< 

Sabine loved the smells and quiet of the stillroom. It had been one of her favorite rooms at the convent, and she had enjoyed setting this one to rights when her father had summoned her here. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters and the shelves that lined one wall were full of carefully labeled jars. She affixed the label to the small jar she had just filled with a batch of salve for Sir Guy’s hands. It was a variation on one farmers used to fix the chapped udders of their milch cows. The nuns had used it on worn and cracked feet and hands in the winters and she had made her own special blend scented with her favorite plants. This batch she had mixed special, trusting that Sir Guy would not want to smell of roses and orris. She smiled as she wrote a short letter to accompany the salve. It was nice to have a project again. There had always been something to which she needed to turn a hand at the nunnery, and her she was mostly decorative. First she would fix his hands and then she would work on his manners. Perhaps she might even coax a smile out of him. He would have to learn how to smile to properly court a woman.  Carefully closing the door to the dark room behind her, she gave both the glazed clay jar and the note to her servant to deliver to Sir Guy’s rooms.

That night as Sir Guy returned to his room after a pleasant dinner with a talkative Sabine and Greymont and a much less pleasant conference later with Greymont  and a few of his closest associates, he found a strange jar and a letter sitting on his desk.

Unfolding the note, he read,

_Sir Guy,_

_Here is the salve for your hands that I promised you. It is not scented as I do not know if there is one you would favor. If there is, please let me know and I will make sure future batches are concocted to your liking. Simply rub the salve into your hands each night before you sleep. It is also useful for the feet, if they are similarly troubled. I shall check your hands in a few days to see if the salve is helping. If not, I shall consult the receipts and see if I can find something more efficacious. Your hands must be as smooth as your tongue if you are to find yourself a proper wife._

_Lady Sabine_

Guy shook his head as he read through the letter. He could not help but wish she was grooming him for herself, and not simply out of responsibility, but he knew those hopes were baseless. He folded the letter again and opened the jar. He might as well use it, whatever it was. Sabine would not be the only one closely examining his hands in the next few days.


	3. Chapter 3

Sabine woke to the sound of her door being pounded upon. She rubbed at her eyes as she sat up and pulled back the curtains surrounding her bed. Her maid servant was opening the door and she saw Sir Guy standing there, holding a candle against the dark. “I’m sorry to wake you so early, my lady, but there’s been an outbreak of sweating sickness in the city. Your father wishes to leave for the countryside within the hour.”

She clutched her nightgown closer around her neck. “Are we to go all the way to Greymont?”

“No, my lady. We are to go to Lakeshore Hall. It is the house that he uses when hunting. We should be there by dark. Your maid and other servants will pack and follow later today with the supplies we will need while we are there.”

“I will dress immediately.”

Sabine’s maid shut the door and flew to the wardrobe.  Thirty minutes later she was laced and tied into her clothing. She took a few minutes to pen a short note and then hurried down the stairs to the courtyard where horses were being saddled. Torches cast an inconstant light over the scene as they fought back the fading night. Members of the household guard milled about, checking the fastening of buckles on the horses’ tack and filling bags with food and wine for the day’s journey. She grabbed one of the young stable boys milling about and pressed the note and a coin into his hand. “Take this to the Duke of Suffolk. Tell no one.” They coin disappeared into some invisible pouch and he scampered off with the note. That out of the way, she looked around for her carriage only to find it missing.

It took her only a moment to find Sir Guy in all the commotion, and she threaded her way through the mass of men and horses to his side. “Sir Guy, where is my carriage?”

“Your father ordered a horse for you, my lady. Carriages are too slow.”

“But I have not ridden a horse since I was six, and that was a pony. I have neither the skill nor the dress needed for sitting ahorse for twelve hours, much less galloping headlong through the forest, which is what I am sure my father has in mind.”

Guy looked around the crowded courtyard and found the Duke. “I will talk to your father and let you know what he decides.”

“Thank you.” She hugged her cloak tighter about her as she waited. The sky was lightening to a dull grey as Sir Guy came back.

He handed her a pair of breeches and a length of cord. “You are to put these on under your gown. We are going to split the party. Your father will ride ahead with four of his guard, and I will ride behind with you and two others as quickly as you feel comfortable.”

Sabine’s hands shook as she took the leather breeches from him. He held out a dagger. “To split your skirt so you can ride astride without difficulty.”

“There will be no need for the dagger. You and my father know nothing of proper women’s clothing.”

She turned on her heel and strode back into the house, her chin held high. If she was going to be humiliated by being forced to ride with no skill, she was not going to add to her humiliation by crying. Calling for her maid, she asked, “Do we have any of my clothes from the nunnery still?”

“No, my lady. The Lady Agnes made you give them all to the poor.”

Sabine rubbed her forehead. All her new gowns were French in style which was going to make this much more complicated. “Then find the ugliest kirtle and chemise I own. No use ruining something I actually like.” Two maids helped strip her of her clothing, while one cut the chemise and kirtle that had been selected to sacrifice to hip length. She quickly put them on, and was laced up the front, and then her gown was placed back over the top. It hung oddly without the roll, farthingale, and forepart to give it structure.  She pulled the breeches on, tucked the ragged kirtle and chemise into the waist and her maid tied them snugly in place with the cord. They were too large, and she rolled the ankles and changed shoes for the sturdiest pair of boots she had. Steeling herself for appearing in front of the household so horribly half dressed, she reentered the courtyard. The guards all stared for a long moment, her legs visible through the open front of her gown. It dragged against the stones and drooped around her legs and she pulled the edges together to cover herself as best as she was able. The captain of the guard gave the order to mount up and all the men looked away.

“I am afraid, Sir Guy, that I will need assistance in mounting.” She couldn’t bear to look at him, shamed by her appearance.

“Of course, my lady.” He brought a mounting block over to the horse that had been chosen for her. Sir Guy had seen to it that the gentlest mare in the stables was saddled for her while she changed her clothing, even knowing it would slow them down. Her panicking on a racehorse would slow them down more.

Sabine climbed the block and put one foot into the stirrup. Her hands were sweating in her gloves as she looked at Sir Guy. “You will not let me fall?”

He held out his gloved hand and she took it for balance as she slung her leg over the back of the horse. The mare didn’t even bother looking back to see who her rider was. Guy handed her the reins and then checked the lengths of the stirrups as a stable hand removed the block.

“We’ll start out slow. Let me know if we’re ever going too fast for you.”

“Thank you, Sir Guy.”

“We will see you tonight!” her father yelled, and he and his men set off at a gallop without waiting for her response.

Sabine thought back to her childhood pony. Sitting astride the horse felt vaguely familiar to that long ago experience, though the ground looked dreadfully far away now. Guy swung himself into the saddle and slapped his reins against the horse’s neck. Sabine repeated his motion and the mare followed behind him with the guards bringing up the rear guard. Once they were out of the city, Guy dropped back so he was riding next to Sabine.

“How fare you, my lady?”

She kept her eyes focused between the horse’s ears, afraid that if she turned her head to the side she would slide off. “I seem to remember how to balance which I suppose is good. My pony never went much faster than this, though, so I have no idea how I shall fare at faster speeds.”

“The road here is nice and flat and straight. Would you like to try a slightly quicker pace?”

She did  _not_  want to try a slightly quicker pace, but she knew she needed to do so. “I think I shall have to because if I do not, we shall all die of boredom before we get to Lakeshore Hall and save the sweating sickness the effort.” She clucked to the horse and the mare moved faster.

Guy kept pace with her. “Put your heels down.”

Sabine shifted her feet as commanded. She was bouncing up and down with such ferocity that she believed her teeth were about to be rattled out of her head.

“Move  _with_ the horse.”

“What does that mean? I’m on the horse. How am I not moving with it?”

Guy talked her through moving with the horse’s gait so she wasn’t bouncing anymore. Every muscle in her shoulders and thighs already hurt, but she was not going to complain, and after about an hour they were moving along at a quick pace.

After several hours they stopped to rest the horses but Sabine stayed in the saddle, unsure of how to dismount. Guy saw her confusion and said, “My lady, if I may be so bold?”

She nodded and he grabbed her around the waist and helped her down. She grabbed onto his shoulder as he let go of her, finding her legs not quite steady yet as the ground swayed precariously underfoot. “Thank you.” She placed her other hand on the horse. “I think I shall just stand here until my legs feel normal again.”

Guy handed her a wineskin. “Make sure you drink.” She sipped at the wine as she watched the other men water their horses at the stream and then leave them to browse grass over which they had scattered oats.

Sir Guy approached her. “Lady, can you stand by yourself, or can I help you to sit? I need to water your horse now.”

She took her hand off of the horse’s flank and waited to see if she fell over. She did not. “I think I can stand.”

“Would you like to sit and rest?”

“No. I fear that if I sit I will never stand back up again. I think I shall try and walk a bit.”

He handed her a hard roll and an apple. “Eat while you do.”

Sabine nibbled at the food as she wandered through the trees. She desperately needed to relieve herself but she was not about to tell the men that. She picked her way further and further away from the impromptu camp until she couldn’t see them and then began to look for something sturdy to lean against. Having finished her food she gathered up the full skirt of her gown and then tried to untie the cord holding up her breeches. The knot had stuck and she had to pick it undone. Finally, it came loose and she let the breeches drop and then tried to figure out how to squat without splashing them or herself. Finally, she leaned backwards against a tree and edged her feet outward. Her heel slipped on a damp patch of leaves and she toppled over, crashing into a bush.

“Sabine!” Guy shouted and went running towards the sound.

Sabine yelled back, “Stay where you are!”

“Are you hurt?”

She grunted as she sat up. “I am fine! I just slipped and fell.” She yanked a twig from her hair.

“Are you certain? Do you need assistance?”

Sabine heard branches crunching underfoot and shrieked, “Do not come any closer!” The footsteps stopped.

Having given up on any sort of successful outcome, she levered herself up on her hands a few inches and finished relieving herself before she picked herself out of the hedge, wincing at the briars and thorns that scratched her bare legs.

Guy watched as Sabine limped out of the forest. At her second frantic command to stay away, he realized what must have happened and smothered any sign of amusement at her predicament. He met her with another wineskin and a hunk of cheese as she rejoined them and waited until she finished eating before signaling that it was time to ride again.

“Sir Guy,” it was the first time she had spoken since exiting the forest, “can you assist me? There is no mounting block here.”

His hands closed around her waist and she grabbed his shoulder for balance as he lifted her easily back into the saddle. “Thank you.”

He nodded, impressed at her lack of complaining about the rough camp and food and rougher ride. “Let me know when you need another rest.”

“Then plan on riding until we arrive at Lakeshore. I cannot wait to never have to sit horseback again.” She slapped the reins against her horse’s neck and started off without waiting for anyone else.  Guy quickly caught up and changed the course she had set a few degrees at a time without her knowledge until they were heading in the right direction.

>< 

Charles slumped into his chair at the table. His eyes were still gritty from sleep and he downed half a glass of wine before he reached for an orange and sliced it into wedges. Sucking on one of them, he gestured to one of his servants. “Any news about how the sickness is spreading?”

“There has been a major outbreak in the city, your grace. Three hundred new dead just last night. The king has sent the queen from the city and will not see anyone. The lady Anne Boleyn’s maidservant died of the sweat and she and her father have removed to Hever Castle.”

“And the lady from last night? You made sure she arrived home to her husband safely?”

“Yes, your grace.”

He chuckled before he bit into another orange wedge, sucking at the juice. “I don’t know if working up a sweat every night actually helps fend off the sickness, but it’s definitely a more enjoyable preventative than that infusion the king offered.”

“As you say, your grace.” He held out a letter. “This was delivered this morning.”

Charles took the letter, addressed merely to Suffolk in a hand he didn’t recognize, and turned it over. He didn’t recognize the seal either, a fox holding a lightning bolt set in green wax, and broke it open. “What does green mean again?”

“Hope, your grace.”

“That’s right. I can never remember the colors. I don’t know why we can’t just use the same color for everything and put the message inside the letter.”

The servant said nothing. His entire household was used to him grousing about everything until he was fully fed in the morning. Charles unfolded the parchment and glanced at the signature. His eyes widened in surprise. Sabine had written him.

_Your grace, the Duke of Suffolk,_

_My father is retiring to the countryside for as long as the sweating sickness remains in the city, and I am to go away with him. I will not be in the church to pray if you come looking for me and did not want you to think I am hiding from you. If you would, your grace, say a prayer for me that I may avoid being taken ill, and I will pray for you that you will remain healthy and whole as well, and that your body may remain as pure as you are trying to make your soul._

_It is my hope that we should meet again soon._

_Lady Sabine of Greymont_

Charles tapped the letter against his lips. It was much easier to the be the man she wanted when she was standing in front of him, but how could she expect him to be faithful to some ideal when she was not there to inspire him or slake his needs? He would never work up a sufficient sweat with just his hand. It might even be said that sleeping with another woman while she was gone could prolong his life so that he would have time to repent of his sins and become the man she wanted him to be. Truly, she would understand the truth of it he were to share an account of his nightly medicine. It was not done out of lust but out of necessity, just like a soldier fought not out of anger but honor and duty. His actions were justified and so he would not trouble her with an account of them, but he would pray for her to remain healthy; he did so want to see her beautiful face again.

>< 

They had been riding by torchlight for hours when they finally made it to Lakeshore Hall, with only two other stops to rest the horses and eat. Sabine had retreated into the woods again, but this time Guy did not hear any disturbing crashing noise, though she exited the forest walking very stiffly. He knew she had to be hurting. He was sore after a day in the saddle and he was used to riding horseback. Still, there had been no complaint from her as he helped her into the saddle again after the short breaks.

She was slouching in the saddle as he went to help her dismount and when he put her on her feet, she didn’t let go of him for a long moment as she regained her balance. When she finally did release him, she took one step towards the hall and then crumpled. He grabbed her before she hit her head.

“I don’t think I can walk,” she whispered, refusing to look at him. “My legs hurt too badly.”

“You’ve been remarkably strong, my lady. I know many men who could not have borne what you did today. With your permission, I will carry you.”

She nodded. “Please.”

He scooped her up and carried her into the hall. Her head sagged against his shoulder as he asked where she should be taken and he shifted her slightly in his arms so that she was leaning more against his chest. She deserved all the support he could give her. One of Greymont’s guards said that the duke had already retired for the night, but showed him the room that had hastily been made ready for his daughter.

Guy carefully set Sabine in a chair in the small bedchamber, grateful that someone had already started a fire in the hearth and the chill was gone from the room. “I will fetch you a maid and something to eat.”

She looked up at him, the first time she had met his eyes since he had helped her remount her horse after their last rest. She had not been inclined to conversation as she gritted her jaw against the growing pain she was enduring. “Thank you.” She managed to smile, even as exhausted as she was.

He returned a few minutes later with a tray of the same food they had eaten on the road and a jug of wine. “My apologies, lady. There will be a cook and supplies in the morning, but for now it is just what we have brought with us. The duke normally eats what he kills while he’s here and anything else is brought in from a village.”

She brushed her hand against the jug, lacking the energy to pour herself a cup. “This is fine. I am more tired than hungry right now anyway. Just send up a maid.”

Sir Guy clutched his hands behind his back and looked at the floor in front of his boots. “There is no maid, my lady.”

Sabine’s head sank and she rubbed her forehead. Her entire body throbbed in agony and now she must endure this final indignity. She took a slow breath to steel herself. “Then I shall have to impose upon you one last time.” She levered herself to her feet, biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain, but unable to stop the tears from spilling over onto her cheeks. Turning her back to him before she spoke, she said, “Will you please undo my gown? I cannot reach the laces by myself.”

His voice was unsteady as he spoke. “As you wish, my lady.”

Guy’s hands shook as he sought out the knot that held the laces tight. Carefully, he undid the bow and began tugging at the laces to loosen them. It took a few minutes, as each little bit of loosening had to be worked up the entire back of the gown and then start over at her waist. The room was dimly lit by the fire, and the light flickered over her hair, picking out the golden highlights in the strands that had worked their way loose during the day’s exertions, curling around her face and down the back of her neck. Her head drooped with exhaustion and he had more than a sneaking suspicion that the only thing holding her upright at this point was the lacing of her garments and sheer stubbornness. Her hand gripped the table like a drunkard fighting for balance and he made himself not linger over the act though he knew he would never touch her like this again.

The dress slowly loosened and when it slipped from her shoulders she grabbed the front of it to keep it from falling any further. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I am always at your service, my lady.” He quickly left the room and closed the door softly behind him. She deserved the best treatment possible after her endurance and gentle temperament today. He would not dishonor her with any lustful thoughts or lingering glances.

Sabine let the gown fall to the floor and then sank back down onto the chair. She unlaced her boots and slowly removed them. The blisters on her feet from a day of hard riding had broken and oozed through her hose, staining it pink and yellow. She undid the cord around her waist and stood, letting the leather breeches drop to the ground. The scratches from her encounter with the hedge had scabbed over, but the insides of her thighs were chafed raw and bleeding from the seams on the breeches rubbing against her all day. She carefully sat back down, her rear so sore she was positive it was bruised purple, and untied her garters. If there had been a maid here she would have sent for a ewer of water to soak the stockings loose, but without that luxury – how quickly she had become accustomed to multiple servants waiting on her – she gritted her teeth and yanked them off. It ripped open the blisters again and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands, one of the few parts of her that didn’t hurt, shook with exhaustion as she unlaced the ruined remnants of her kirtle and pulled it and her chemise off. She dropped these to the floor as well. She would have her maid turn it all into rags.

Slowly she levered herself up from the chair one more time and deliberately, with legs bowed and shaking, crossed the few steps to the bed. It took a monumental amount of effort to pull down the blankets far enough for her to climb into the bed, and it was another herculean task to pull them back up. She didn’t even try to close the curtains. Even with the pain, sleep came quickly, at least for her. Guy tossed and turned all night, haunted by visions of Sabine in the firelight.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the staff that would be joining them and all the supplies arrived with the first rays of morning. Sabine slept through the commotion as food and clothes and household goods were unloaded from carts and carriages. Greymont left with a few of the guards after a quick breakfast to go hunting, nominally to provide meat for the table, but mostly to avoid the noise and dust. He typically sent servants down beforehand to have everything waiting ready when he arrived, just as he had always sent aides de camp ahead to set up his tent when on the battlefield.

Guy had been left in charge and watched as chests and baskets and barrels were unloaded. More rooms were opened up and aired out, the dustsheets pulled off of furniture, and chimneys checked for blockages before fires were lit. As the morning progressed, the friendly chatter between the servants began to die off when he walked into a room, and he noticed more and more dark glances being sent his way.

Finally, he pulled aside Sabine’s maidservant when he noticed her crossing herself as she looked at him. “Have I done something to offend you, lady?”

Rachel pulled her arm free. “You know what you did, Sir.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid I do not. I’m not in the habit of asking questions to which I know the answer.”

Rachel leaned in and hissed at him. “Did you think you would be able to hide what you did to her? I’ve seen animals treated more kindly when they’re bred. I know you are a soldier, but you’re supposed to take your sword off before you bed a lady.”

“What are you talking about? I have bedded no one.”

She pushed him back a step, waving a sheet at him. “Then who did? Was it one of the guards? Just tell me the name and I’ll turn that cock into a hen myself.”

Her furious accusations drew an alarming picture. “Did someone hurt Lady Sabine?”

“She’s bloody and raw from hip to toe, with bruises dark as royal velvet up and down her backside.”

The image of it made him sick, but the thought she would accuse him of such maltreatment made his stomach churn. “And she said I did that to her?”

“No, my lord. I took one look at the blood on the sheets and have been heating water for a bath ever since and making up a tray of food that might tempt her to eat. She won’t talk, just cries until she goes back to sleep. I doubt she could even get out of bed by herself right now.”

Guy rubbed at his forehead tiredly. “I would have you ask her if ought raised a hand or a word to her and I will take care of the pestilent whoreson myself. I fear, however, that it is just the result of spending more hours in the saddle than anyone should, especially a lady with no experience. I’ve seen saddle sores before and what you describe sounds much like them.”

Rachel snorted and began ripping the sheet into strips for bandages. Sabine would need her legs wrapped for the next several days until the skin healed. “Her father, begging his grace’s pardon, should have let her ride in a carriage and come with us if he couldn’t wait for her himself.”

Guy took out his dagger and cut several notches along the edge of the sheet to make tearing it easier. “I suggested such a thing, but he wanted her out of the way of the disease as soon as possible. I am sure she will be allowed to ride in a carriage for her return.”

“See that she does. The lady has a sweet spirit and won’t complain of any pain. She says that suffering is the woman’s lot. Someone needs to watch out for her because she hasn’t the sense god gave a hen to run away from a fox.”

>< 

That night the cook roasted a haunch of venison. Getting to accompany the duke to the hunting lodge was a prized privilege among the servants for the meat was fresh and plentiful, and there was always enough for the servants to eat their fill. The duke carved off a slab of meat and transferred it to his trencher with his fork. “Where is my daughter? She should join us for dinner.”

Guy wished she was there as well, and not just because it would mean she wasn’t hurt. “She is in her room, your grace. She is feeling indisposed.”

“Pouting about having to cut up one of her pretty dresses?” He stuffed a hunk of meat in his mouth as he reached for his cup.

“Both of her feet are blistered and raw, the breeches chafed her legs until both bled, and she is severely bruised from being jostled in the saddle.”

Greymont slammed his cup down and the wine sloshed over, spilling across his sleeve and the table. “I thought I told you to teach her how to ride.”

“There’s only so much one can teach at a gallop, your grace.”

The duke snorted and went back to eating. “Well, I’m sorry you had to deal with her complaining all the way from London. It couldn’t have been a pleasant journey.”

“On the contrary, your grace. She did not complain a single time.”

“Hmpf.” He poured himself another cup of wine. “She might be my daughter after all,” he muttered.

That quiet response surprised Guy. “You think she is not?”

“Her mother swore before a priest that she was mine, but I always wondered. The other four all had dark eyes like mine, and hers, blue as the sky. She didn’t get that constitution from her mother though. Eleanor was delicate as a blossom. Pretty thing. Fell in love with her on my first visit to court. Wooed her, won her hand, and married her. I’m not sure why my father let me now. She didn’t bring money or property to the match, and love fades soon enough. Still, she was a good wife. I learned my lesson though. All my children have made matches that have built this family’s political fortune. Sabine is the last one I need to settle.”

Guy set to eating as if Sabine’s marriage was a matter of no interest to him. “Do you have anyone in particular in mind for her?” He sliced off a slab of bread. It was coarser than was normally served on the duke’s table, but he liked it that way. He supposed his base tastes were the result of too many years working for a living.

“I’ve had a few offers. None I’ve told her about, because none of them further my plans.”

Guy didn’t want to know any more about the duke’s plans than he already did. “Will you be wanting to hunt tomorrow as well?”

“Of course. Might as well enjoy my enforced leave of the city. You’ll have to join us some days when you’re not teaching Sabine how to ride.”

Guy choked on his wine. After thumping his chest with the side of his fist, he said, “Your grace?”

The duke waved his knife at Guy. “No daughter of mine is going to embarrass me by not being able to ride a horse. Make sure she’s capable of riding back to London without bleeding.”

“As you say, your grace.” If that was what the duke wanted, he would do it, even if she would suffer because of it.

>< 

It was three days before Sabine made it down the stairs, refusing to go until she could take the steps without assistance. She breakfasted with her father before he left for another day of hunting, lingering over the poached quail eggs that had been perfectly cooked. Slowly she walked outside, interested in exploring the place she had only seen from her window. A large lake dominated the view, but the grassy meadows around it quickly gave way to forest. The track they had followed in by torchlight was quickly lost under the shade of the trees.

“Rachel, would you go ask someone to bring out a chair and some sort of shade for me. I think I shall rest out here for a bit. It appears that I overestimated the energy I would have this morning.”

It didn’t take long before a small shade pavilion was erected with two chairs, a small table, and an assortment of food for her to enjoy. She was sitting in a padded chair, enjoying the view over the lake and the sunny day when she was joined by Sir Guy.

“My lady, I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”

She waved at the chair beside her. “Would you like some wine?” She poured a cup and offered it to him.

“No, thank you.” He sat on the edge of the chair and tugged at the bottom of his jerkin, making sure the brocade laid flat. “Why did you not tell me you were in such severe pain?”

She stared out at the lake, watching the surface ripple with magnificent light in the soft breeze. “Was there anything you could have done about it?”

“We could have gone slower.”

“And just prolonged the agony.”

“I could have gone back to London and fetched a carriage.”

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Against my father’s express orders, leaving me in the forest either by myself or with strange men, and possibly endangering your own health and the health of everyone else? Pain comes to us all in our turn. It is a grace to learn to endure it quietly.”

Her placid acceptance of her state irritated him. He wanted her to be angry at her treatment, not accept it with a gently smile. “Your father has ordered me to teach you how to ride while we are here.”

Her eyes widened and she sat bolt upright, wincing at the sudden movement. “He cannot seriously mean to have me ride back to London. There are carriages and wagons here, and I will ride in one of those or I will walk.”

He smirked at her sudden rejection of quiet endurance. “My lady,” he started but she waved him to silence.

“No. Do not look at me with such a sweet apology on your face and try to ignore what I have said. You tell the duke that I have no objection to learning to ride, and when I am fully recovered I will learn to ride well, so that I may ride for my pleasure or that of society, but until he marries me to King Henry himself so that I have to ride in a royal progress, I have no intention of riding the day long ever again. I am a lady. I will ride in a carriage like a lady, and if he has a problem with that, he can send me back to the nunnery.”

Her anger crackled around her like she stood in the midst of a lightning storm. “Yes, my lady.” Guy made to stand, but she waved him back in his chair, her anger gone as quickly as it came.

“Stay. My father will be gone for hours yet, this cushion is very soft, the view is lovely, and there are too many figs for me to eat by myself. Besides, if you are to teach me to ride a horse, I am going to teach you to converse with a lady so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of your wife. Has my father picked one out for you yet?”

He blinked several times before he could answer. “A wife?”

“Yes. I’m sure he’ll have someone picked for you when he decides it’s time for you to marry. He’ll find you someone that you wouldn’t be able to marry otherwise, and you’ll be grateful to him, and he’ll bind you to him with chains of gold. They are prettier, but they’re still chains.”

Guy knew the metal of some of the links. The chain was worth the weight though if it would deliver the promised prize. “You seem very cynical about your father.”

“He sent me to the convent the day after my mother’s funeral and I never saw him again until I arrived in London in answer to him summons.” She picked up a bunch of grapes and began stripping them from the vine, her hands moving separately from her mind. “I’m here to get him something he wants. He hasn’t seen fit to disclose what to me yet, but I can’t imagine that I will play any part in it other than to marry whoever he tells me to.”

Guy watched her over the rim of his winecup. Was there the hint of a rebellion there in her distant gaze at the hills across the lake? “Have you thought of disobeying him?”

Her eyes flew to him. “Disobey him? I am a lady. I ride in carriages, I obey my father, and then I obey my husband. It is what I have been trained to do my whole life.”

“And so you wait to find out whom you will obey the rest of your life.”

“Yes.” She nodded serenely and not for the first time Guy was grateful that he had not been born a woman. He did not have the temperament to sit and wait as his fate was decided for him. He would shape fortune with his own hands. “And I pray that it will be someone who I can at least respect, even if I will not be able to love him.”

Guy knew he should change the subject, but he craved the intimacy of continued conversation with her. He leaned forward in his chair so he could reach the jug of wine and refilled her cup. “Do you hope for love?”

She took a sip before she answered. “Don’t you?”

“I have learned that hopes are for other people.”

Her smile was sad as she looked back out at the lake. She wished she could be like that lake, smooth and calm and swallowing anything thrown at her without it scarring her. “I hope for love. I knew it once from my mother. I felt it again from some of the sisters at the convent. I have no idea what it is to love a man. Even if it is unrequited, even if it can never be consummated, I wish to have someone in my life that I could love with my whole heart.”

“I am sure your future husband would wish to be the recipient of that love.”

Her snort was delicate and ladylike. “I find it unlikely that I will be able to love anyone that would meet my father’s standards.”

“Do you condemn all his associates equally?”

“The ones I have met have all been old and fat and grey and ugly and cared more about their own honors among men than the state of their soul.”

He had watched a failed cavalry charge on an enemy position once. That same sense of dread filled him now as he charged headlong into the fray. “And am I old and fat?”

His voice was deep and soft and resonant, causing something deep within her to tremble. Her hand shook as she set down her cup. “Well, no, of course not.”

If she wished for unconsummated love, he would do his best to kindle it in her heart. A better man would have let her alone so that she could go to her husband unencumbered, but he knew himself well enough to know he had not the self-restraint to be that man. He had known too little love in his years as well, and the thought that one such as she might care for him, even be brought to love him, spurred him onward. “Is my hair grey?”

He watched the heat creep up her neck and over her cheeks as her eyes flickered over the black waves. “No.”

“And tell me Sabine,” he leaned forward as he said her name, “do you find me ugly?” He waited patiently as her eyes roamed over his face as if she were looking at him for the first time.

She knew it was dreadfully improper of him to ask her this question and she did not want to admit that she found him sternly attractive. She stared, immobilized by his crystal blue eyes that reflected light like the surface of the lake and found herself hypnotized as a smile slowly curved his mouth. It softened his face, changing him from soldier to gentleman. Finally, she drew a breath. “No, my lord. I do not,” she said, soft as the breeze around them.

“The first morning we were here, Rachel accused me of having raped and beaten you.”

Her hand flew to her throat, clasping the pendant cross that hung there. “I never said such a thing.”

“I know. But I will tell you, my lady, I would kill the man who tries to hurt you without a thought to my own soul if it means protecting your honor.” He stood up and bowed. “Please excuse me. I must be about my duties.”

She turned to watch him stride back to the house, and then collapsed back into the soft comfort of her chair. Though she sat there for another hour, she did not see the beauty around her. Her sight was fixed on the memory of his smile, and the feel of his hands on her waist as he had helped her with her horse, and the way he had carried her as if she had weighed less than a feather. It hurt her chest to remember the gentleness with which he had undone the laces of her gown, and so she chose not to think about those few moments that made her feel as if she were bathed in firelight again.

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Sabine spent the next few weeks avoiding being alone with Guy. They dined with her father twice a day and she engaged in polite conversation, but she did not invite any further intimacies with him. When she was recovered enough to start taking riding lessons, she limited their touch to just her hand on his as she mounted, and made sure Rachel was always there and watching. She found him handsome, but she could not forget that he was cut of the same cloth as her father. At least that is what she repeated to herself. She could not find the evidence to support that claim, however. He was unfailingly polite and kind to her and always did his best for her father. She found herself watching him in quiet moments, not noticing until he would look at her and then that hint of a smile would appear before she turned away.

It was a relief when word arrived that the sickness had left the city and they would be returning to London. It took them three days to make the journey back as her father stopped to visit friends along the way, but this time she was in a carriage and had Rachel and her books for company, which made the longer journey much more pleasant, even if part of her felt like she was hiding..

The day after they arrived back in London, she attended the King’s requiem mass with her father. Pillows with pairs of spurs were interspersed amongst the congregation where the fallen had once sat. Gratefully she noticed that Suffolk was there, though the seat beside him bore a pillow and spurs. She offered up a prayer of gratitude as the boys’ choir sang that he had come through the outbreak whole, as well as the king and queen.

After the mass, she attended her father as he talked quietly with his associates. The grief of so many pressed upon her and she did not see Suffolk approach her father.

“Greymont. It is good to see you have returned to court.” He was looking at her when he said it.

“And you, Suffolk, though your absence was not caused by this damnable illness.”

A muscle quivered in Suffolk’s jaw as he forced a smile. “The king has ordered a celebration to lift the spirits and to give thanks for those who were taken ill and recovered.”

“Yes. I heard the Lady Boleyn was struck down. How happy he must be that she was blessed with a full recovery.”

Suffolk smiled knowingly. “Yes. She was among those so stricken. The king was wondering if you would be so kind as to help with certain of the festivities.”

“Of course. His majesty knows that I am his faithful and loyal servant and that all that I possess is his to command.” Greymont watched as Suffolk’s eyes slid towards Sabine. “Forgive me, I believe you have never been introduced to my daughter. This is the Lady Sabine. I have brought her here to London to live with me that she can enjoy the delights of court life.”

Sabine curtsied and Brandon nodded his head. “You shall be one of the prized jewels of the court and bring delight to others.”

“You are too kind, your grace.”

“I am not kind enough, my lady.” He smiled and Sabine felt her cheeks heat and looked down, not wanting to see her father’s reaction. “Perhaps we shall get to know each other more at the celebrations. Have you ever seen a joust?”

“No, my lord.”

“Well, then, it should be quite the day for you. I will look for you in the stands as I compete.”

Greymont laughed and slapped Suffolk on the back. “Don’t look too long or you’ll get knocked on your ass. Not a good way to impress the ladies.”

Suffolk’s chin lifted and Sabine’s eyes widened as the two men faced each other. She looked around, wondering if she should be concerned. She had no experience dealing with her father when he wasn’t the most important man in the room. “I’ve never been unhorsed in a joust.”

“Well, maybe I shall have to compete and see if I can be the first.”

Suffolk’s grin made him look like a snarling wolf. “You’re welcome to try.”

Sabine smiled at the image of Suffolk knocking her father off of a horse. It would serve him right for competing against a man half of his age.

Greymont huffed and smoothed the gold chain of office over his chest. “Could I impose upon you to escort my daughter to a carriage? I must talk with Cardinal Wolsey and she has no interest in the affairs of state.”

“It would be my honor.” Suffolk extended his arm and Sabine carefully took it. He waited until they had left the room before he spoke. “I am relieved to see you that you have come through the recent sickness without harm.”

“And I you, your grace. I noticed that the seat next to you in the chapel was empty. Was he a close friend of yours?”

Suffolk’s eyes flickered as he remembered. “Yes. Sir William Compton. One of my closest friends.  You actually danced with him once.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“And I am grateful that I did not lose you as well.” He stopped and turned to her. “I prayed for you every day.”

Her lungs constricted as she looked up at him. He was so handsome and there was no doubt about his affection for her, either in his voice or the way he was looking at her. “And I prayed for you, your grace,” she said softly.

He took both of her hands in his, letting his thumbs stroke slowly against the soft skin. “Please, call me Charles.”

“I do not think that I should.”

He stepped closer and placed her hands on his chest. “Please. I want to know what my name sounds like when you say it.”

Her eyes fell from his face so she could breathe again. “If you insist, Charles.”

He let go of one of her hands so he could gently touch her chin, lifting her face up to look at him again. “It’s like hearing an angel.”

She shook her head though her eyes were fixed on his. “I am no angel.”

“You are to me.” He brushed the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip before he tucked her hand back around her arm and they began to walk again down the red brick hall. “I shall hope to see you at the celebration. I would have another dance with you, if you would be so kind as to favor me.”

She felt like she was dancing already and her mouth tingled where he had touched it. “I would like that.” Gravel crunched underfoot as they left the castle and entered the courtyard where carriages waited.

“And will you come watch me joust?” He wanted every moment of her attention for himself.

She clutched his arm as she imagined him being hit by a lance. “Will it be very bloody? It sounds such a brutal sport.”

He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently, touched at the concern wrinkling her forehead. “Injuries happen, but only rarely.”

They stopped in front of a carriage and she smiled. “Then I will come, as long as you promise me not to get injured. I do not think I could stand to see you hurt.”

“I will do my best for you, Sabine.” He handed her up into her carriage and kissed her hand before he let it go. He watched as the carriage rolled away, grateful it was just for a few days instead of weeks this time. Every time he saw her he found himself caring for her more. If he hadn’t known his marriage was a mistake before, he definitely knew it now.

>< 

Her father regarded her over his cup of wine. “Did Suffolk continue to pursue you after I left?”

Guy’s head shot up, looking back and forth between Sabine and her father.

Sabine dropped the piece of fruit she had just picked up as a sudden shock went through her. She hadn’t thought there was anything behind her father asking his fellow duke to escort her, but apparently there was. She should have learned by now that her father never did anything by chance. “He asked me if I would come watch him joust in the tournament.”

“And what did you say?”

She folded her napkin over and over in her lap, feeling like her most private thoughts were being rifled through for public inspection. “As long as he promised not to get hurt, because I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“Excellent.” He emptied his wine cup. “Keep encouraging him.”

“But,” she looked up at her father and then glanced at Guy, “he is married.”

Her father snorted in derision. “I don’t want you to bed him, girl, but keep him trailing after you. I’ll dangle you in front of him until I have need of you someplace else. You’re too valuable to be a mistress, even of the king’s best friend, but you might be what I need to get him to support some of my ideas.”

“As you say, father.” Sabine went back to eating, keeping her eyes fixed on her plate. She could feel Guy watching her as he conversed with her father, but even without him saying a word about it, she knew he would be entering the joust as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Sabine had never seen a tilt yard before and followed the others who were leisurely making their way towards the joust for its mid-morning start. Colorful pavilions had sprouted all over the surrounding grounds like mushrooms after a rain, and shields hung on poles outside each one. For the first time in her life she felt illiterate as she had never been taught the heraldic emblems of the nobles and gentry. She would have to learn those quickly before she mortally offended someone.

She wound her way through the improvised camp, making sure she didn’t trip over any of the stakes, fascinated by the sights and sounds of so many knights readying for battle. It was like something out of an Arthurian legend. The distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer rang out over the noise of squires scurrying to and fro, and fires with large pots suspended over them added the scent of smoke to the smells of men and animals. The pavilions grew larger and more impressive the closer she got to the joust and the camp as a whole took on a more ordered appearance. She stopped to let a knight on horseback go by when she heard a familiar voice call out, “My lady,” and turned to see Charles approaching in full armor, his helm under one arm, and his horse’s reins clutched in his other hand. “Will you walk with me to the start?”

Her heart swelled at the sight of him. He was the picture of perfect manhood in his black and gold armor, chased with flowing designs. His head was cocked to the side as he waited for her answer, and she stopped admiring the squareness of his jaw and wanting to touch the hair on it to answer him. “Of course, your grace.”Her skirt swayed around her feet as she walked next to him, chaperoned by the constant sound of metal on metal. “I didn’t realize armor was quite so noisy.”

He chuckled. “I do make a bit of a ruckus, don’t I?”

“Is it very uncomfortable?”

“No. You have to be able to fight in it, so I can do just about anything in it that I would do with it off.”

Sabine smiled at the thought of him going about his daily routine clad in full plate. “Could you dance in armor?”

“You might not be able to hear the music. Would you like me to attempt it this evening?”

“No, I think it might be the best if you take it off.” She stopped in her tracks and her eyes widened in horror as she realized the possible impropriety of what she had said. “That is, if you wore your,” she hurried to correct herself, only to realize she didn’t know the words for what she wanted to say. “Is there a name for the short robe that you wear?”

“It is called a robe.

Sabine's laughter was as bright as the sunshine. “I am learning more and more that while I have a very good knowledge of certain areas, growing up in a convent has left me quite deficient in others. I have learned to ride a horse. I suppose I can learn what the names are for men’s clothing, and what all those emblems on the shields mean.”

“I would love to be of assistance in any way that I can. My shield is a rampant lion on a field of red.”

As they continued their stroll through the tents, he identified the different shields to her, making sure to point out the ones of the most important men. Soon, they came to a parting of the ways. “I fear I must leave you now. Where will you be sitting?”

“Queen Katherine has invited me to sit with her ladies on the berfrois.”

“Then I shall look for you there.” He smiled down at her, his smile appearing surprisingly soft against the full plate. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to wear your favors today?”

She looked down at the length of red ribbon looped around her wrist. Rachel had placed it there and explained the idea behind it that morning. “I do not thing it would be wise for you to wear the favors of another woman when you joust before your wife’s brother, the king.”

“I shall wear it under my breastplate so no else will see. Please, my angel.”

How could she refuse such a supplicant? Sabine slowly drew the ribbon from her wrist and handed it to him. He wound it around his hand and kissed it before he tucked it under his armor, making sure it was completely hidden. Charles gently stroked his fingers over her cheek before he turned and followed the other knights who were entering the lists.

Sabine went back the way she had come to find her seat, only to encounter Guy walking his horse to the lists.

“My lady,” he nodded his head.

“Sir Guy. Are you excited for the day’s competition?” She held her hand out to his horse and rubbed her hand over his muzzle. She had gotten used to this horse when he had been teaching her to ride. It was the one he always rode and he had spent hours riding in circles with her, teaching her how to sit and move to keep from getting bruises.

Guy watched with hidden amusement as she cossetted the war horse like a lap dog. “I’m used to riding in battle. This will be a nice change of pace.”

“Have you been in many battles? I thought you had served as a royal guard.”

“I have been both a guard and a soldier. It’s more boring to be a guard, but you are more likely to survive as well.”

She spared a smile for him as she continued to pet the horse. There had been cats at the convent that she had loved as well, but there were no animals here for her to shower with her need to give affection. “And now you will ride to celebrate life rather than take it.”

“As you say.” Guy paused, watching her with enjoy herself as she whispered nonsense to the horse. Eventually, he had to continue on his way. “My lady, if I may be so forward, could I beg the honor of wearing your favors today?”

Sabine flushed hot under his gaze and ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Sir Guy. I have already given them to someone else.”

He drew himself up to his full height and smirked. “Of course. I am sure a woman of your beauty and virtue has many admirers. I hope you enjoy your day, my lady.”

She watched him walk away, her ears stinging at his unintended rebuke. He called her virtuous who had given her favors to a married man. Her father would have approved of her actions, for encouraging Suffolk’s affection, and that should have been enough of a sign that she was acting improperly. She was breaking the law of God, distracted from her sacred commitments by the new and unusual world she was living in, her head turned and her heart tainted by a handsome face and sweet words.

She took her seat quietly, surrounded by the chatter of other noble women. The King and Queen were announced with a fanfare of trumpets and soon after that, the action began. She found jousting to be an abrupt sport, loud and violent. Every time a knight was unhorsed, she held her breath until he stood again. One man had to be carried from the grounds in a litter, and one horse had to be put down after breaking its leg in a fall. She had excused herself to be quietly ill after that, nauseated by the sound of the horse’s scream and the amount of blood that spilled forth when its throat was slit. There was a large muddy spot when she returned where dirt had been shoveled over the blood.

She was back in her seat when Charles rode for the first time, and she warred with her heart when he smiled at her before lowering his visor. Was what she was doing so wrong? He was married, yes, but her father had told her to encourage him. She was being obedient. Wasn’t that her role? To honor her father? It was a commandment. And yet she remembered how offended she had been when she had first learned that he was married. Even her father’s command could not override the laws of God. Things had been so much easier in the convent.

Charles easily won his first joust by unhorsing his competitor, and his second by breaking his lance on the man’s shield. Guy won his competitions as well, unhorsing both of his competitors, though he cut a much less dashing figure doing it in his plain armor when compared to Charles’s black and gold. It was early afternoon when it was announced that Charles and Guy would ride against each other.

A speculative murmur ran through the crowd and bets were placed on who would win. She couldn’t tell who had the popular edge by the voices shouting, for both had their admirers. Charles was a known quantity and well-liked at court, but Guy had taken down both of his opponents with a ruthless precision and many people were betting on the unknown newcomer. The ladies around her seemed very appreciative of both men, not caring so much about which won the joust as long as neither got hurt so they would be available as dance partners. Some even speculated as to their potential for partnering something else entirely. Their words scratched at her, leaving her raw and irritable.

Sabine held her breath as the flag dropped and the two horses hurtled towards each other. Both of their lances were steady as they charged, the beat of the horses’ hooves seemingly the only sound as everyone froze in anticipation. Even the pennants hung still as the wind stopped. Their lances hit at the same instant and shattered with a loud crack. Splinters of wood shot through the air and Charles’s body hung in mid-air for a moment before it crashed to the ground.

Everyone shot to their feet, waiting for some sign of movement but none came. Sabine gripped the railing in front of her, willing Charles to stand or at least to move. Guy circled back around on his horse and jumped down, squatting by the man’s head. He lifted the visor and Charles groaned and reached up to smack Guy’s hand away. “I’m fine,” he groaned.

Affronted by the brusque dismissal, Guy was about to stand when he noticed the end of a familiar red ribbon sticking out from under the man’s breastplate. The last time he had seen it had been around Sabine’s wrist at the breakfast table that morning. He yanked off his gauntlet and plucked the coiled ribbon out. “I’ll just return this to the lady then, shall I?” He stood before Charles could respond and grabbed the reins of Charles’s horse and led both horses off the tilting yard. Charles slowly sat up with the help of a few men, earning a round of applause from the crowd.

Sabine darted down to the end of the tilt yard, wanting to reassure herself that Charles was not severely injured, but Guy reached her first. He held out the red ribbon in front of her. “I thought you were better than this, Sabine.”

She snatched it from his hand, ashamed at having been caught, and even more ashamed that it was him who had caught her. “I was doing as my father ordered.”

His nostrils flared as he sneered at her words. “That’s an excuse I might use.”

How dare he judge her? Who was he to pass judgment on where she entrusted her heart? He was not a priest or her father; he was just a lowly knight. “May I not love where I choose?”

“Love?” He laughed and stepped even closer so he was looming over her. “He’s a married man, Sabine. Which are you giving him along with your favors, false hope or your maidenhead?” Sabine recoiled as if he had slapped her. “Either way, you dishonor yourself.”

Guy pulled the horses around and led them off, needing to ready himself for the next joust. She looked back to see Charles finally on his feet. He had stopped and watched the interchange between Guy and Sabine. She had no idea if he had heard any of what had been said, but her heart was in turmoil and pain and she couldn’t stand herself right now. She dropped the ribbon to the ground and ran, ignoring Charles calling her name.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun shone merrily and there was the perfect amount of breeze to prevent becoming uncomfortably warm. All around him, there were the sounds of laughter and music. Garlands of flowers were draped around the entire area, a definite change in mood from the martial pennants that had flapped in the air yesterday. The king and queen sat next to each other in elaborately carved chairs, enjoying the feast as they watched the dancing. Anne sat a table nearby, holding a slightly less impressive court to the one surrounding the king. Katherine knew the feast was to celebrate Anne’s recovery, but had the grace to keep a smile on her face in public. Charles couldn’t even bring himself to smile. He wound the red ribbon through his fingers, watching Sabine dance with another man. She’d been dancing for the last hour, never at a want for a partner. At least it wasn’t that horrible Guy of Gisborne. Charles had never seen the man before being unhorsed by him, and the look of contempt on Guy’s face as he took Sabine’s favors was indelibly etched in his memory. Whatever Guy had said to her had sent her running and he hadn’t found her the rest of the day. To add insult to injury, Guy had won the tournament and the 100 pounds that had been the prize, denying him both honor and love.

Charles emptied the rest of the wine in his cup before reaching for the jug, only to find it empty. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Sir Anthony Knivert rolled his eyes at the question. He’d gotten used to Charles moping about Sabine in the last few hours. He waved over a steward with another jug of wine. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with a morose Charles. “Yes. She’s quite lovely, just like an hundred other girls.”

“I think I love her.”

Anthony shoved Charles so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “You fall in love faster than a whore falls on a cock.”

Charles regained his balance and reached for the new jug of wine. He was so downtrodden he couldn’t even muster the energy to shove his good friend in retaliation. Before he had met Sabine, he and Anthony and William would have taken advantage of a beautiful day like this to find new conquests. Now William was dead and Sabine wouldn’t even look at him. Even the sunshine seemed malevolently bright. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in love before.”

“Says the man with a wife, and a broken betrothal, and a son.” There was a bit of truth to that statement though. Anthony had never seen Charles this obsessed with a woman. Maybe it was just the unique experience of being rejected that had him so enthralled.

“She’s different than all the others, though.”

Anthony rubbed his hand across his face. This was at least the fourteenth time they’d had this discussion today and nothing had changed. He was done being sympathetic. “Get them alone in the dark and they all fit pretty much the same. Find another pretty girl that won’t give you as much work.”

Charles watched Sabine dancing. She smiled at her partner. When she’d seen him watching her earlier she hadn’t smiled. She’d turned away. “She’s worth the work.”

Anthony snorted into his cup and shoved Charles again, though more gently this time. No use making him actually fall off the bench. “You’re a fool. No roll in the hay is worth that much work. Move on and find another cunt to tire your cock, or go home and get your wife with child. Father a son and he might just end up sitting on the throne with all the luck Henry’s had with Katherine.”

Charles snarled at him. “Watch your tongue. That’s treason, even for you.”

Anthony rocked back from Charles’s sudden anger. “Pardon me, your grace.” After a quiet minute he resumed his course of dissuading Charles from his chosen torture. “Didn’t she grow up in a convent? She wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“Oh, but to be the one to teach her.” Charles blew air across his gritted teeth. His shoulders sagged as he turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s not just about sex, Anthony. I want to be the one to make her smile. She’s like an angel in human form.”

“That’s all well and good, but I’d rather have my women be strictly human. It’s much more fun that way.” He stood and hauled Charles to his feet. “Come on, let’s go see what other delights are on display.”

Sabine watched surreptitiously as Sir Knivert led Charles away and gave a sigh of relief. He’d been watching her ever since she started dancing and she was having difficulties keeping a smile on her face. As the dance moved her about, she did not see Charles stop to talk to Guy.

Charles deliberately slammed his shoulder into Guy’s as he passed him. “You may have taken her favors from me, but she will never choose you. Who would want a mere knight when she could have a duke?"

Guy smirked at the drunken duke, already swaying on his feet. “Because I have something you lack, your grace.”

Charles laughed, showing off teeth that looked feral in his anger. “What is that?”

“The ability to be faithful to something other than my cock and my king.”

Charles swung at him but Guy easily stepped out of Charles’s range and Anthony pulled him away before he could attempt another blow.

Sabine was just about to reclaim her seat, feeling safe to sit without Charles coming to talk to her, when Sir Guy asked her for a dance. Not knowing how to refuse him without appearing churlish, she agreed and followed him back onto the dance floor. Last night, she’d gone to bed before he and her father had returned home and been thoroughly scolded this morning over breakfast for not staying for the entire joust. Guy had won the competition, earning not only the prize but taking eight horses in the process. “One for every day of the week and two for Sundays,” her father had crowed.

“It seems you could make a living jousting, Sir Guy. You shall have no need of my father’s patronage soon.”

“Don’t be foolish, Sabine. He’ll always need me.” Sabine didn’t miss the flash of disgust that crossed Guy’s face at her father’s words. “Now you find time to get Suffolk sniffing after you today. No leaving early like yesterday. I want him buzzing around you like a bee around a flower.”

Sabine’s stomach knotted with anxiety, her shoulders tensing in anticipation of the coming conflict. “Father, I must protest. It isn’t proper for,” she meekly started.

“God damn it girl!” Sabine jerked back in her chair and crossed herself as her father slammed his fist on the table, making the dishes clatter and her drink slosh. “This isn’t your precious convent. I am the law in my house and I’ll decide what’s proper. You do what I say or you will pay the price for your insolence. Put a smile on that pretty face of yours and secure Suffolk’s affections or I’ll make it impossible for you to smile at all.”

She nodded quickly, terrified that any further protest would incur a physical blow. “Yes, sir.”

She hadn’t been able to make herself encourage Charles, as much as it pained her to see him sorrowing. Her heart ached to go to him, to make him smile again, to let him make her smile in return, but she knew she shouldn’t.  As Guy took her hand for the dance, she prayed he would remain silent and not rebuke her again for her behavior yesterday. She did not think she could withstand another scolding today.

“Are you enjoying the dance, my lady?”

She did not have the patience for this chatter. “It is not the fashion to talk while dancing, Sir Guy.”

“I noticed you haven’t been seen with Suffolk.”

Her skirts brushed against his legs as he spun her, his hand firm and dry as it held hers. “Does my father have you hounding me to carry out his plots, Sir Guy, or have you been watching me for another reason?”

His short beard obscured most of his smirk. If she wanted to lash out at someone who could not hurt her, he would let her rain her blows down on him. Better him than her father. “What reason would I have to watch you, my lady?”

She lifted an eyebrow and smiled, though her normal sweetness was completely missing. “I do not think you would be nearly so concerned about my attentions towards Suffolk if you did not wish to be the recipient of them yourself.”

A blow fairly landed, and yet he could still attack. “And if I do? At least I would take you in front of a priest before I took you to my bed. He cannot give you what you need to be happy, Sabine. I could.” He twirled her around and then wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her firmly against him for a moment.

Sabine looked up into his face, his blue eyes completely different from Charles’s, but beautiful in their own right. “I do not love you.”

And she drew first blood. He spun her out again and they followed the prescribed steps, her skirt swaying around her like a bell. “And you love him? The man who asks you to compromise your most dearly trusted values?”

Color rose in her cheeks. He had drawn blood as well. “He has asked nothing of me that I am ashamed to have given him. We have merely talked together.”

Another turn and they were back to back, looking at each other over their shoulders. “And has he touched you? Touched your cheek, or dragged a finger over your bottom lip?” His eyes lingered on the full curve of her mouth.

She could feel his gaze and the way it made her lips tingle. “Have you been spying on us? Has my father set you up to this?”

Another spin and they were facing each other again, his hand tighter on hers this time. “I don’t need to see it. I have seen it a thousand times before. A young lady comes to court sweet and innocent, and she succumbs to the gentle touches of a man who swears to love her and then throws her aside when he’s done.”

Sabine shook her head, her voice dropping in anger. “It isn’t like that. He’s a gentleman.”

He spun her around and brought her up against his body again. “What will you do when he wants more than you’ve given him? Where will you stop his touches, Sabine? When he holds your hand? When he touches your breast? When he undoes the laces of your gown?” Guy ran his hand down the line of her spine, brushing over the laces in question.

“Stop this!” She didn’t wait for the end of the music but fled the dance floor that had been assembled on the grass.

Guy went after her but was brought up short but a curt gesture from her father. Biting back a growl of irritation, he answered the duke’s beckon.

Sabine got a cup of wine and stood on the outskirts of the festivities, watching the dancers. Her hands shook with anger and she held one to her cheek to calm the trembling and hide the flush of emotion she could feel burning her face. She hated this day more than yesterday. She’d been horrified by the brutality of the cock-fighting, and her enjoyment of the dancing had been spoilt by both Charles and Guy.  It was partially restored watching Princess Mary dance with her father. The child was adorable and everyone doted on her. The only other bright spot had been the dogs that some of the women had with them on leads. Maybe if she were very good, she could convince her father to buy her one of her own. She could learn how to content herself with a dog as the object of her heart’s affections.

Deciding she was hungry, she scanned the tables, making sure there was no sign of Charles, Guy or her father before choosing where to sit. She recognized several of the ladies from the joust yesterday and knew she would be welcome and protected from possible importunities there, and she would be far enough away from the king and queen were in their fancy chairs at the main table to avoid all the favor currying that was a constant backdrop to all royal events. The lady Anne Boleyn was sitting off to one side, receiving her own audiences as allegiances shifted between the old queen and the woman many believed would be the next one. Anne seemed oblivious to the occasional angry look from Katherine’s face but Sabine knew she could not be. It was common knowledge in the court that Cardinal Wolsey was working with Rome to secure a divorce for the king. Sabine thought this was utter nonsense. Henry just wanted to marry his mistress and set aside his lawful wife. God would never approve of such vanity and lust.

Then she saw Charles and Sir Knivert walking back towards the tables and realized she was his Anne. How could she encourage him, no matter how delightful his company and how happy he made her heart? Charles saw her looking at him and when she did not immediately turn away he quickly crossed to her.

“My lady.”  He bowed to her.

She did not curtsey “I should not be your lady.”

“My angel, then.”

She dug her nails into her palms, counting on the pain to distract her from his charm. “No Charles. Can you not see how wrong this is? I am made wanton by your affection and I will not drive a wedge between you and your wife.”

He smiled at her, his head tilted to the side. “You cannot place a wedge between two things that have grown apart.”

He reached out a hand to touch her but she pulled away from him. “But I can tie you both together, like a sapling to a pole to help it grow straight against the winds that would beset it.”

Over Charles’s shoulder, she saw both Guy and her father watching the two of them. She had been less closely observed in the convent than this. Guy began to stalk towards them and Sabine wanted to stamp her feet and scream in frustration.

Charles turned to see who she was staring at. “I hate that man,” he muttered. The muscle in his jaw throbbed as the two men glared at each other.  Sabine wanted to yell at Guy to go away and that she didn’t need his help when a man in between the two of them shouted, “Death to the King and death to his whore Anne.”

The stranger pulled out a crossbow from under his coat and aimed it at the king. Screams rent the air as people dove to the ground, trying to get out of the way. Charles flung his arm around her and turned her away as Guy tackled the man to the ground. She looked back to see Guy snarl as he yanked the crossbow away from the man and then slammed it down on the would-be assassin’s head with a sickening crunch.  The stock shattered and so did the man’s skull. The metallic tang of fresh blood flooded her mouth as she gasped in horror and then her eyes rolled back in her head as she passed out, assaulted by too much noise and violence and the sickening stench of fresh blood.

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It was quiet when she came to herself again. Charles was wiping her face with a damp cloth as he sat on the edge of a large circular fountain, holding her limp body. Hedges towered above them, shielding them from view. “Where are we?”

“In one of the gardens. I thought you could use the calm when you woke up.”

She realized she was draped across his lap and struggled to stand.

He tightened his arm around her, trying to keep her from fleeing again. “Wait. Please wait.”

“I cannot sit on your lap. It’s not proper.”

“No one will know.”

“I will know.” She pushed against his chest and he helped her to stand. “I cannot continue this…flirtation with you, your grace. You are married and I am a maiden. It isn’t right, for either of us.”

“But I love you.”

Sabine closed her eyes. She could not stand to see the entreaty in his face. “You do  _not._ Not truly. If you loved me you would not ask me to betray myself. You would honor me by giving your love to your wife to whom it rightfully belongs. I dishonor her as well, as much as Anne dishonors the queen to whom Henry should be faithful.”

“You would be wise to keep your opinions to yourself when it comes to Anne and the queen. Henry will hear no ill word said against her.”

Sabine opened her eyes at the rebuke. She supposed he was correct. It was not her place to criticize the king. “But you are not Henry, and I will not be your mistress or anything like unto it.”

Charles stepped towards her and Sabine stepped back, an awkward dance with a reluctant partner. “You cannot keep me from loving you, Sabine.”

“No. I cannot. But I ask you, for the love you hold for me, please do not talk to me again. If you would prove to me your love, do not talk to me as long as you are married to another woman. It causes my heart to ache to hear your voice.” She continued to retreat until her back was against the hedge and there was nowhere else to go.

Charles closed the final step, pressing up against her until their faces were close enough that they could share the same breath. “Sabine, you do not mean this.”

She placed her fingers over his mouth and he gripped them in both of his hands, pressing kisses to her fingertips. She closed her eyes again. “Go. Go attend to your king. Your absence will be noted. I will find my way back.”

She waited for several minutes after he left, letting the tears subside and her cheeks lose their heat before she made her way back to where the people milled about. Henry was screaming at his guards about how they had let an assassin into the celebration. The bloody body of the man was still lying on the grass and Guy was with her father, both of whom were standing near the king. Anne was nowhere to be seen and neither was Katherine. She didn’t see Charles anywhere.

She stood at a loss as everyone else frantically scurried about. Then Agnes appeared out of the crowds and resumed her place at Sabine’s side. “There you are, child. I lost track of you during the dancing. Your father is going to be quite displeased with my job as your chaperone.”

Sabine was used to Agnes regularly wandering off. “Do not worry, cousin. My virtue is still intact, though I must admit that I’m not sure how much more excitement I can handle for one day.”

“Well, your father has been charged by the king with getting to the bottom of this mess. No one seems to know who the man is or how he got in.”

Of course her father was in charge of the investigation. He never missed a chance to cover himself in glory. “Isn’t he dressed in livery?”

“Aye, that’s the symbol of Lord Birchbury, but the lord swears he’s never seen the man before.”

Sabine walked over to the table furthest away from the corpse and sat down. “Are people being allowed to leave? I would like to go home if it won’t throw me into suspicion.” She poured herself a glass of wine, needing something to fortify her.

Agnes’s forehead creased as she looked at Sabine. “You’re looking pale as new milk. You eat something and I’ll go talk to your father.”

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Sabine sat in the deep window in her rooms, her head leaning against the glass as she stared out the diamond shaped panes. After learning that all of her clothes from the convent had been donated to the poor, she had requested that a few gowns be made in the simple English style she had worn there, though as a nod to her status, she had allowed them to be made in silk brocade rather than wool. The dress made her feel as though she was back at the nunnery, and she had dismissed her maids for the day so that she might have the comfortable silence she remembered as well. Her melancholy reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. She called out for the person to enter and Guy opened the door holding a tray. She waved for him to come in.

Guy put the tray of food down on the heavy wooden table in the middle of the room before he crossed to where she sat. She pulled up her feet and he sat on the other end of the window sill. “I thought you might be hungry. You were not at breakfast this morning and now you have missed luncheon as well.”

She managed a half-hearted smile for him. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I have maids.”

“I was worried about you. You appeared unwell last night as I escorted you to your carriage and then you did not appear today. Are you hiding from your father?”

Her head ached and her eyes burned. She had barely slept the night before as she had considered fleeing and going back to the convent. She could ride well enough now and with the jewelry her father had given her she could pay for inns as she travelled. She knew though that what would happen to a lone woman travelling would be worse than what her father did to her. Her position seemed hopeless and so she had resigned herself to her fate, regardless of the consequences to her face. Sabine reached for the rosary in her lap and worked the beads between her fingers, seeking reassurance in the familiar prayers. “I told Charles he is not allowed to talk to me as long as he is married. My father will not be pleased.”

Guy placed his hand upon her knee, lightly at first and then with more weight when she did not protest. “Let me protect you from him.”

A flicker of hope ignited in her heart only to be quickly extinguished. “How would you do that? You are dependent on his largesse for your place.”

He held out a letter with a large seal on it. She opened the paper, moving the ribbons out of the way to read the formal language. She skimmed the first few lines and looked up at Guy in surprise. “The king has summoned me to attend him in three days’ time where I will be ennobled a marquess and given lands sufficient to support me in gratitude for saving his life. I will not need your father anymore. Marry me, Sabine. Let me keep you safe.”

It was a good offer. He was younger than most of the men her father associated with and handsome and had been unfailingly gentle with her. Out of all of her possible futures, he would provide one of the best options. There was only one problem. “I do not love you.”

He tilted his head to the side, half of a smile softening his face as he met her gaze. She was not trying to hurt him, she was warning him, not wanting him to sacrifice himself for her. “I think given time I might win your heart.”

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the stone wall. “How do you win that which belongs to another?”

He took her hand and linked his fingers with hers, letting the beads of her rosary twine around them. “I unhorsed him in the joust. Let me displace him from your heart as well.”

Sabine opened her eyes to look at their joined hands, the carved jasper stones wrapping them together. The silver crucifix was pressed between their palms. She slowly looked up at him. The blue embroidery on his jerkin matched the blue of his eyes exactly. If it had been Charles, she would have suspected he had done it on purpose, but Guy did not seem to be the type to pay much attention to his clothing. It was a beautiful shade of blue, though. He should wear it more often. “Very well. You may ask my father for permission to court me. It is his decision to make after all.”

He placed a kiss on the back of her hand before he relinquished it and stood. “I will do my best to make you happy, Sabine.”

“I know.” She went back to staring out the window. “I do not envy you your task.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sabine was bejeweled within an inch of her life. Her father had opened up the duchess’s jewels for her choosing to wear to Sir Guy’s ennoblement. For Agnes’s choosing, rather, as her father didn’t trust her ability to dress herself appropriately for being in the presence chamber with the king. Agnes had chosen the emerald and diamond parure and Sabine felt gaudy and ridiculous in it, but her father had approved of the choice. He liked everyone to know how wealthy he was. She wondered if he was using the occasion to show her off some more. Her dress was one she hadn’t worn before as well, and the heavy blue shot silk did bring out the color in her eyes, according to Agnes, and the fold back sleeves revealed green brocade sleeves, the slashes held together with emerald and gold aglets, allowing for puffs of white undersleeve to show through. It made her miss her simple clothing from the nunnery all the more, when she had been able to dress without assistance in only a few minutes. She looked like the most important woman in the room, and as she looked around at the faces of the other people gathered for the ceremony, she realized that she was.

It was, she supposed, an interesting ceremony, replete with pomp and tradition despite its brevity. It took only a few minutes and Guy was now the Marquess of Corbank and the Earl of Oxbury and had been granted properties worth 60,000 pounds for his support. That seemed like a large amount to her but she had no idea how much her own father’s properties were for comparison. She kept getting distracted during the short ceremony by Charles in his coronet and ermine-trimmed cape standing behind the king. He kept staring at her in a discomfiting manner, but she couldn’t tell what was going on behind the impassive mask. She knew there was bad blood between Charles and Guy, over the joust and, she suspected, over her as well.

As soon as the ceremony was over, Guy was surrounded by people wishing him well, congratulating him, and currying favor. The court was taking his measure, attempting to figure out how this new player would affect the various factions vying for power and influence. Her father stood at his side, unwilling to let his new toy get taken away from him by anyone else. She stood quietly to the side, not wanting to draw attention to herself and not knowing where else to go. Finally, they were all called to the feast. Charles held out his arm to her and she took it, not knowing how to turn him down politely in front of the assembled dignitaries. He led her to the high table and helped her with her chair, and then with a polite nod, he left without saying a word.

Sabine was occupied by the centerpiece on the table, a large piece of green turf, on which was placed a gilt cage surrounded by red and white roses. Inside there were a dozen finches, their feet painted gold. The birds seemed unaffected by their enclosure and sang sweetly as they fluttered back and forth in the cage. Guy was soon seated next to her and she smiled at him as the others took their seats at the high table. The queen sat on the other side of Guy and her father sat to her other side. The high point of the first course was an enormous pie, the edge of which was shaped to resemble the king’s crown, and stuffed with chickens, pigeons, capons and geese. It was brought out and presented to the king for his approval. At the king’s nod, servants began to place the food on the silver plates in front of them.  Jellied eels, platters of whole fish and small sweet pasties were also brought out and offered. Loaves of hot white bread were added to the table and Sabine took some of the grapes from one of the overflowing bowls of fruit.

Guy leaned towards her after the servants had finished serving the first course. “Your father has given me permission to court you.”

Sabine took a sip of wine as she digested this news. It was an odd sensation, almost cold and unnerving, like diving into a pond that still has a skin of ice over it, to realize she was sitting next to the man who she would probably marry and spend the rest of her life with. Schooling her nerves so that her hand didn’t tremble, she placed her glass on the table again and kept her eyes fixed on the crowd milling about. Some people were eating, but many were talking and laughing, and in the balcony that surrounded the room, faces watched, keeping notes of who talked to whom. She kept her voice light and cheerful when she answered him. “I know I told you I was going to teach you how to woo a proper lady through conversation, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“It was what I had hoped for.”

“You told me hope was for other people.”

Guy settled back in his seat, holding a glass and silver goblet of wine in one hand. The chain of his rank sat easily on his broad shoulders, over the fur-collared robe. “Well, I am another person now. I am Sir Guy of Gisborne no longer; now I am the Marquess of Corbank.”

He looked like an entirely other person than the dusty soldier she had first met. He seemed more peaceful as well; as if an inner hunger had finally been sated. “I shall have to remember to ‘my lord’ you now.”

He rested his hand on hers for a moment. “Please just call me Guy.”

She looked at his hand, memorizing the small scars on the back of it from a lifetime of fighting. A ruby ring sat on his middle finger. She wondered what kind of ring he would buy her. “Is this the first step of courting me, Guy? Using Christian names?”

“I believe it is.”

There was the first step taken towards the rest of her life. “And what shall be the second?”

“I believe I am supposed to visit you often and bring gifts.”

She smiled politely. “Well, since we live in the same house, I suppose it will be easy for you to visit.”

“I hadn’t told you this yet, but one of the properties I was granted is my own house in London and I will move there before officially beginning to court you. For the sake of propriety, of course.”

“Of course. I must admit I hadn’t thought about that. Do you know yet where your house will be in London?”

 “Near Blackfriars.”

Color lightly washed over her cheeks. “How foolish will I appear if I admit I’m not sure where that is? I know how to get from our house to Whitehall, The Tower, Hampton Court and Westminster, but if the king does not live there, I don’t know where it is. Oh, and I can get to my cousin Agnes’s house.”

“Are you interested in exploring the city?”

“I am terribly bored of being at home or at court. When I was in the convent, there were things to do. I worked in the garden, and I collected eggs from the chickens, and drove the sheep out to pasture. I baked bread. I learned how to spin wool and embroider and sew. Of course I learned languages and how to play the lute, but there was always something to do, and sisters to do it with. Here I am mostly alone or at court and I do not think the ladies here would like to dirty their dresses collecting eggs. I feel like one of those birds,” she pointed at the centerpiece. “All dressed up in a pretty cage.”

“Shall I buy you a hen so you can go collect an egg every morning for your breakfast?”

She laughed, but her laughter died when she looked at him. There was no humor in his eyes. He really would buy her a chicken if he thought it would make her happier. “Somehow I think my father would be less than impressed with your idea of a courting gift.”

“Then what shall I bring you? Gloves? Ribbons? A new girdle?”

She was saved from having to answer by the appearance of the second course, entire roast turkeys, imported from the New World, served with a huge fan of tail feathers. There was also sturgeon served with vinegar and parsley, and entire deer, and a brace of rabbits sprinkled with pomegranate seeds. There was enough food to satisfy even her father’s appetite. Sabine picked at the slice of turkey she had been given, shredding the meat into bite sized pieces.  “You don’t have to do all this, you know.”

Guy gently touched her face, slipping a finger under her chin and tilting her towards him until she was actually looking at him. “All of what, Sabine?”

She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip as she sought for a polite way to say what she felt. “You will court me the requisite amount of time, then you will go to my father and ask for permission and he will say whatever he will, and if he says yes then I say yes. You don’t actually have to convince me to marry you.”

Guy brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, watching a flush of heat rise up her neck. “I think you misunderstand me. I’m not trying to convince you to marry me,” Guy picked up her hand and brushed his lips over the back of it. “I’m trying to convince you to love me.”

Sabine didn’t know what to say in response and so she turned to her meal, hoping that Guy would follow her cue. He did, and they discussed nothing of importance for the rest of the dinner.

When the fourth course had been presented, consisted entirely of sweets and cheeses and wine, Sabine watched with trepidation as Charles approached the high table. “Your grace, I was wondering if I might have the honor of dancing with your daughter.”

“Of course.” Her father waved a hand at her to excuse her to go.

A servant scurried to help her with her chair, and as she stood she looked at Guy. Worry lines creased her forehead and Guy took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You honor yourself more than he does,” he murmured.  

Taking courage from his words, she followed Charles to where people were lining up for the next dance. He led them to the far end of the chamber, as far from her father as he could get.  The music started and they stepped towards each other. Charles had a satisfied smile on his face as he extended his hand for her to take.

Sabine placed her hand on his so lightly he could barely feel it. “So you are intent on obeying the letter of the law, rather than the spirit?”

Charles grinned at her as he turned her around and they took their places in the opposite lines. “Am I allowed to talk to you now?”

Sabine did not find his impudence amusing. “You are a wicked man to torment me so when I’ve asked for you to leave me alone.”

His hands went to her waist as he picked her up and spun her half way before setting her down again. “I cannot stand to see you sit next to that man,” he whispered against her ear before stepping back again.

When the music brought them together again, she found herself incapable of keeping silent. “Is that why you asked me to dance? To get me away from another man?”

He rested his hand on her waist though the dance called for no such familiarity at that moment. “I would take you away from all other men if I could.”

His husky confession stirred the heat within her, but not in the way he had desired. Her mouth pursed as she slapped his hand away and walked off the dance floor, her head held high. After a moment of surprise, Charles followed after her. She kept walking until she found a small foyer that was empty of anyone else. She whirled around, her skirts twirling after she stopped moving, and folded her hands tightly in front of her. “It is not  _my_  faithfulness that leaves room for doubt, Charles.”

“You doubt my faithfulness?”

“Yes. Every interaction we have had has been testament to your infidelity.”

He smiled as he stepped closer, pushing against her full skirts as he reached up to touch her face. “And yet you still care for me. Why is that?”

She grabbed his hand and shoved it away. His touch would just betray her resolve. “Because I am a foolish woman, easily charmed by a sweet smile and a romantic gesture. You are like something out of a tale.”

“And like a foolish woman you are in love with someone else now?

Sabine did not like the accusation of her own fickle nature. She walked away from him and studied the beautiful flowers arranged on the table. “The Marquess of Corbank has been a perfect gentleman to me in every interaction,” she offered finally.

“And your father plans to marry you off to that jumped up knight?”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “If I have heard correctly, you were not even a knight when the king made you a duke, and at least he earned his position for saving the king’s life. You were nothing but a whoring companion.”

His jaw set in a scowl, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he closed on her. “Is that what you think of me?”

Sabine would not be intimidated by him, no matter how large he loomed over her. He would not dare to a raise a hand to her as he might to a lesser woman, and she took courage in her position to say the words that had slowly settled into her mind in the last few days as she had compared his actions to those of Guy. “Grace has come to you very lately, and you repay the king by betraying his trust and marrying his sister. You are not faithful to her. You cannot even honor my request to leave me alone. You call it love as you follow your urges to and fro, when you are nothing but a whore, spreading pain like a pox to the ones you profess to love.”

Charles’s face went white and then red. “Very well, my lady.” He bowed to her with a chilling preciseness. “If that is truly how you feel, then I shall remove myself from your presence. I would not want to infect such a paragon of virtue with my unwanted love, and I wish Corbank joy of you. You will bring him no pleasure. You will be his punishment and I will laugh at his misery married to such a frigid wife.”  He snarled the last few words and then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Sabine was still crying when Guy found her. He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned around. As soon as she saw who it was, she rushed into his arms, burying her face against the soft fur of his robe. Guy was taken aback at this sudden action, but he wrapped an arm around her and stroked her long hair with his hand. That would be his one regret when they were married, that she would then cover her beautiful hair.

Against his selfish wishes, he released her when she pulled back from him. “How can I help, Sabine?” He adjusted her tiara that had been bumped slightly askew from him holding her.

She wiped away the tracks of the tears from her cheeks. “Are any of the properties that you were granted far away from London?”

“The marquessate is far to the north, on the border with Scotland.”

She sniffed and rubbed her cheek again. “Then I think we should have a short courtship. I would like to marry as soon as possible so I can leave this dreadful place forever.”

A small smile curved the corner of Guy’s mouth. “I shall talk to your father this evening.”


	8. Chapter 8

The last five days had been a whirlwind of activity in the Greymont home. Guy had moved to his new house, taking many of the household staff with him. This had left her shorthanded and while she had been hiring temporary replacements, Guy had asked her if she would help him select staff for his house as well. Agnes had helped her with that. She had no idea how to select a servant but Agnes had been running her household for over a decade and taught her many things. Sabine had a horrible premonition that when she married she was going to be a disaster of a wife as she struggled to learn the skills of household management most women of her rank learned at their mother’s knee.

Then, her brother and Myfeyny had arrived along with three children and that added to the noise and confusion of an understaffed house. Guy had visited every evening, along with other friends of her father, so while they had seen each other, they had never been alone. Frequently she was sent from the room while the men talked late into the night. The first time it happened, she asked Guy the next night what it was that the men discussed while she wasn’t there. He had shared the news of the impending legatine court to decide whether or not the marriage of the king and queen was invalid.

Sabine frowned at the revelation of the secret. She had been expecting something much more scandalous. “And why was I sent from the room?”

“Your father doesn’t think politics is a matter that should interest women.”

“It’s not politics, it is theology, and it interests me greatly.”

He remembered his first night in this house, when she had argued with him about Luther, and smiled. “I’m sure it would, but as I am but a guest in your home, it is not my place to countermand your father’s offer.”

Her frown deepened. “And when we are married, will you excuse me from the room while you discuss the affairs of the day?”

“Never.”

She made a satisfied little nod. “Good.”Guy had struggled to find an appropriate gift for her but now an idea came to his mind, one he was sure would mean more to her than a new girdle. “If you like, I could escort you to the trial. It will be held at Blackfriar’s.”

Her smile was the biggest one he had earned yet. “I would greatly enjoy that.”

Each night, she asked Guy what had been discussed the previous night after she had been dismissed. He shared news and gossip with her, and answered her questions about Imperial politics and England’s shifting alliances with France and Spain. Whenever she apologized for not knowing anything about these issues, he would smile and rest his hand over hers. “I’m glad you don’t know much about politics. Answering your questions means that I don’t have to pick a quarrel with you because I have run out of things to say.”

The night previously, as they had settled into the two chairs that she had started to think of as theirs, Guy had reached over and claimed her hand. She had grown accustomed to him touching it as they spoke, but the familiarity betokened by him taking her hand in his caused a thrill to race through her like seeing the first green shoots after a hard winter. Though she could not look at him, she squeezed his hand gently as she smiled.

Guy could see the curve of her cheek as she smiled, though her innocence kept her from being able to look at him for a few moments. When she finally did look at him, her eyes were brighter than he remembered them being before. “And do you wish to know what we discussed last night?”

“Yes, please.” Last night it had been only Guy and her father and brother. She had been surprised to find herself dismissed from that familial gathering.

“Your dowry.”

She sat bolt upright. “My dowry?”

“And your jointure. Your father is having the contract drawn up for our betrothal.”

“And when will that take place?” She had thought she would have been informed of this information, but apparently her father had left it up to Guy to tell her.

“Two days from now.”

She sank back in her chair. “That is soon,” she said softly.

Lines wrinkled Guy’s forehead as he watched her shrink at the revelation. “Is this too quick? You did say you wanted a short courtship.”

“No. No, this is good. The sooner I can leave all of this behind me, the happier I am.” She hadn’t gone to court since her quarrel with Charles, wanting to avoid any further rudeness or pain. Even with all the tasks she had undertaken to keep herself busy, he had rarely been distant from her thoughts.

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Sabine was actually enjoying her ride this morning. Her father had announced that they were all going to take a ride and have a luncheon out of doors. Her brother Walter and his wife Myfeyny had arrived in London two days previously, which probably accounted for his good mood. Walter was a perfect copy of his father, and the two men had raced ahead, setting their horses against every obstacle to see which could clear it the easiest. Guy had ridden by her side, along with Agnes and her husband William, and Myfeyny, and Ursula, a young widow who was her father’s latest mistress. The musicians and the servants with the food brought up the rear.

She had forgotten the loveliness of having women to talk to, and though she disapproved of Ursula on principle, the woman was delightful to talk to, with a quick wit, a wellspring of humorous anecdotes, and a charming laugh. Myfeyny was also a good conversationalist, and though the discussion didn’t have much depth, Sabine found herself swept away in the gentle humor of the women’s acquired wisdom of surviving and even flourishing beside powerful men and in the court of a cantankerous and intemperate king. The group cantered into a meadow to find her father slitting the throat of a roe deer, a spear protruding from its side. Sabine reined to a halt at the site, putting her hand over her mouth to keep from being ill at the blood pouring forth. Guy stopped next to her. “Are you unwell?”

“I’ve never been to a hunt or seen an animal butchered before.”

Guy guided his horse with his knees to block the view from her sight. “Did you not eat meat at the convent?”

“It usually came to us dressed by the villagers and farmers who gave it to us. Our own chickens and sheep we ate when they got too old to bear young, but I was never part of that. I spent my time digging in the garden. The other sisters would tease me about how much I loved it. Tell me that if I ever decided to take the veil they would call me Sister Eve because she was the only one who spent more time in a garden than I did.”

Guy dismounted and handed his reins to a waiting groom and then slid his hands around Sabine’s waist to help her down from her horse. She gripped his shoulders as he lowered her to the ground and though she let go of him when her boots touched the grass, he did not let go of her. “Are you steady?”

A small smile teased at her mouth as he kept her close to him. “Yes, my lord.”

“And you’re not in pain?” he asked softly.

She remembered how gentle he had been with her on that hellish ride and in its aftermath. She looked up at him, more memories of the long hours he had patiently spent with her when she had recovered, teaching her how to keep from hurting herself again rushing through her. He had always been so protective of her. “No. It was not such a long ride, especially now that I know what I’m doing.”

His voice was a tender with her as his hands had been undoing her laces. “Then I suppose I should let go of you.”

The kiss on her hand the prior night had been longer than any before, and frequently when they had talked, his eyes had dropped to her mouth. He was looking at her mouth again, and she blushed. “You probably should.”

His hands dropped from her waist but he didn’t step back. “Would you care for a walk while the luncheon is set up? It will take a while for them to butcher the deer and I have a feeling you would prefer to miss that.”

“Yes I would.”

Guy bit the finger of his riding glove and tugged it off with his teeth before using his bare hand to remove the other one. He tucked them into his belt and then held out his hand to her. She was still removing the gloves he had given her this morning, soft leather with a silk lining. She placed her bare hand in his and they began to walk together, following along the bed of a creek that ran through the meadow. She was silent as they meandered along through the grass. He had no idea what was going through her head, and as much as he was enjoying the novelty of getting to walk hand in hand with a proper lady, he was concerned that he had done something to hurt her feelings. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Should I be? I thought we just have to sign the contract.”

“And we kiss.”

She dropped her eyes. “Oh.”

Again she fell silent but this time he was fairly certain of what she was thinking about. “Have you kissed a man before, Sabine?”

She shook her head.

“I am very much looking forward to kissing you,” he offered.

Sabine looked back at the rest of the party and saw that the creek had curved enough where they were now hidden from view by a stand of trees. “I fear I shall disappoint you.”

Guy stopped and turned her to face him. “Why would you think that?”

She continued to stare at the grass. “Because I’ve never kissed someone, and I am frigid,” she whispered.

Frigid was one of the last words he would have ever have used to describe the opinionated beauty in front of him. “Who told you that?”

“Charles.”

Since she was fascinated with the ground he didn’t bother keeping the anger off of his face. “Why?”

Sabine covered her face with her hands. She was so ashamed of herself and her dreadful behavior that day. “Because I called him a whore.”

Guy threw his head back in hearty laughter and Sabine looked up in surprise. “You are a delight, my Sabine.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I have always had a terrible temper.”

Guy stroked her cheek softly. She was so tender and innocent in the ways of the world but more demanding than the world would ever be with her when it came to her personal standards. “Is that why you were crying when I found you? Because he called you frigid?”

“He said being married to me would be a punishment.”

Guy placed his hands on her waist and then slowly slid them around to her back as she didn’t protest, pulling her closer to him. Sabine rested her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing over the quilted leather that formed the top of his jerkin. “You are a blessing to me already, Sabine, and I think you will become more so.”

“Are you certain?”

He nodded, a gentle smile on his face, one that he knew she was the only one to elicit in over a decade. “However, I hope that eventually you’ll see me as more than just an escape from your father and Suffolk.”

Sabine felt surprisingly relaxed in his arms, though she still had a difficult time looking at him when he was this close to her. When she would look at him only to see him this near, all sensible thought seemed to flee her mind, and she would be struck with a near overwhelming desire to touch his face or his hair. “You said you wanted to make me fall in love with you. Does that mean you have fallen in love with me?” she asked of the buttons on his jerkin.

“It does.”

She lifted her face to him. “You love me?”

“I love you.”

He had thought her beautiful before, but the smile that appeared left him breathless. “No one has ever loved me. No one except my mother.”

“And now me.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked away. She had cared for Charles and he had turned on her. It scared her to care for Guy now, but she knew she did. It had not come on so suddenly, but it was stronger now than what she had felt for Charles that morning he had asked for her favors. “I told you when you asked me to marry you that I don’t love you. I think, however, that I’m falling in love with you.”

The knot of anger that had fueled him since he had been turned off of his father’s lands as a boy shrank again at her words. It had dwindled greatly in the days since he had been made a marquess, an honor he had never even hoped of. Being given permission to court a beautiful noble woman had made it shrink even further. The thought that she might care for him was something from the realm of dreams. “That makes me very happy.”

She darted a glance at him to see if he was teasing her, but he seemed sincere. She decided to share with him an additional sliver of her heart. “I also think that if my heart keeps turning the way it has, that I’ll be in love with you by the time we marry.”

The last twenty years had held nothing but bitterness and gall for him, but now, everything would be made right. Sabine was the final piece of reclaiming a heritage that had been stolen from him. And not just reclaiming his lost past, but bettering it. His parents could look down on their son with pride now, rather than shame. “That makes me happier still.”

His smiled made her feel warmer than the sunshine. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you.”

She looked again to make sure no one else was in view and then she took a deep breath. “Will you kiss me?” Sabine did not understand why Guy’s eyes suddenly darkened or his breathing hitched. Perhaps she had done something unforgivably wanton to ask such a thing. She hurried on to explain herself.  “I don’t want to do it wrong with everyone watching, and if I am frigid, I would not want you to bind yourself to me.”

He blinked several times, slowly, as he cupped her face in his hands. “I can tell just by touching your hand that you aren’t frigid, darling, but I’ll be happy to kiss you if it will set your mind at ease.” Her eyes were wide open and her breath was coming in shallow little gasps. “Just relax,” he whispered.

“I’m not sure where I’m supposed to put my hands,” she confessed.

“Just leave them where they are.” He smiled as her hands immediately stiffened. “Now close your eyes.”

He heard her take a sharp inhale of air and then she blinked several times before her eyes finally stayed shut. Wondering why Fate and Fortune had decided to favor him now after so long with their backs turned against him, he bent and lightly brushed his lips against Sabine’s. Her eyes fluttered and then closed as he kissed her again. Once more he moved his mouth over hers and she hesitantly kissed him in return.

Sabine could feel her heart beat pounding against her ribs as she closed her eyes. The soft babble of the creek sounded like the crashing of waves in the darkness, and the breeze whispering through the leaves sounded like a thousand voices. She felt his breath before she felt his lips, and when they brushed softly against hers, all the noise stopped. She opened her eyes to make sure she hadn’t passed out, but they fluttered shut at the sight of Guy so close to her, and the silken feel of his lips moved against her mouth again. The simple press and release encouraged her to kiss him in return, and when she did, she could feel his smile. Her hands relaxed against his chest as they kissed again, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin of her face as his fingers brushed against her soft hair and teased her delicate neck.

Guy kissed her one more time, letting the touch lengthen, and then pulled back. Her cheeks were flushed, and when she slowly opened her eyes, it seemed she could not focus. Her first breath rattled in her lungs and she looked away from him, lifting the back of her hand to press against her cheek. “You, my heart, are not frigid,” he said softly, and pressed his lips to the fragile skin of her temple.

She rested her head against his shoulder, and he held her silently as the sun moved overhead. He didn’t know what she was thinking again, but this time he found it did not matter.

 ><

When they returned from the picnic, Sabine went to her rooms to change. Rachel helped her out of her riding habit and then said, “A letter came for you while you were out.”

Sabine took the green sealed letter and opened it.

_Lady Greymont,_

_I know you have asked me not to talk to you while I am married, and after this letter I will follow your wishes, both to the letter and the spirit of your request. When I left you I heard you start crying, and at first I was happy to have hurt you the way you hurt me. I left the castle immediately, called for my horse and left London. I wanted to be as far away from you as I could be. As I rode towards Suffolk, the words you said to me repeated themselves over and over in my mind. You are right that I was made a duke because of my close friendship with the king. Our behavior has often been of a nature that would not meet with your approval. I had always viewed it as being one of the perquisites of being a member of the court, that I could have my choice of the ladies there. However, the king gave me explicit instructions about the welfare of his sister and I ignored them. I swear to you that I thought I did so out of love, but I knew myself mistaken by the time we reached London again._

_My wife was surprised to see me when I arrived at the house there, for I spend most of my time at court, choosing the companionship of the king over her. As we ate dinner, we quarreled and she said that loving me hurts her because she knows that I do not love her anymore, but that when I did it was her greatest joy, and to know it is gone is now her bitterest sorrow. I have hurt my wife, and for that I am even more sorry than that I hurt you, for it is her to whom I owe the greatest fidelity. She has told me of the hurt that I do her, for she knows of my unfaithfulness even though I thought I was careful to keep it hidden from her. I made a vow when I married her and I broke it, and how can I be trusted by you if I cannot keep the same vow I made to her. I do not love her, Sabine, but I will be faithful to her. I will show her the most love that I can, for it is not her fault that I have an intemperate heart, but my own._

_I will be faithful to her, because even though I hurt her she still loves me, though I know not the reason why. I don’t do this to show you that I love you, but because I am grateful to still have her love, though I know I have lost the chance at yours forever. Margaret deserves a better man than I am now. I can only hope that I can become the person she thought I was when she married me._

_I am no longer glad that I hurt you. It is one of the worst things I have done in my life, to treat an innocent as yourself with a lack of respect that even the most base do not deserve. Please forgive me the hateful and vile things I said to you. You are so tender-hearted, and I abused the trust you had placed in me. Please, if you would be my angel one last time, forgive me my final cruelty towards you. I pray for this above all things but the welfare of my king and the forgiveness of my wife._

_Lord Suffolk_

Sabine read through the letter four times as she considered what to do. Finally, she wrote him a simple reply.

_Lord Suffolk,_

_I forgive you._

_Lady Greymont_

She addressed it to his house in London though. He could wait until he returned to court to learn of her good will.

>< 

Sabine had taken the utmost care with her appearance that evening. She and Myfeyny had gone through all of her dresses to pick the perfect one, with maids helping her in and out of kirtles and foreparts and sleeves until they found the perfect combination. Then it had been how to arrange her hair, and that had led to picking the perfect jewelry as well. By the end of it all she felt quite silly, but when she walked into the room where her family and friends were waiting for her, along with Guy and Archbishop Warham, the look on her soon-to-be betrothed’s face made the hours of effort worth it. She had never seen him look so pleased before.

This was not a religious ceremony, but she had insisted that a priest be there to witness the signing. The entire process took only a few minutes. Guy signed the contract, and then she did, and then her father and Warham signed as witnesses. Then Guy gave her a ring, a table-cut sapphire, “blue for purity,” he murmured as he slipped the gold band on her right hand. “And for your beautiful eyes,” he whispered in her ear. Sabine blushed at the compliment, or maybe the heat racing through her was because of the feel of his lips so close to her face and the memory of his kisses they caused. His hair brushed against her cheek, sending firey shivers down her spine.

“And now, you must kiss,” Archbishop Warham said.

Sabine tilted her face up towards his. She had fallen asleep the night before thinking of his kisses and had been thinking about this moment all day. Guy smiled as she closed her eyes and then bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss, and then he raised his head and they smiled at each other. Another burden of his past slipped from his shoulders as she blushed and ducked her head for a moment before being swept up into the arms of her cousin and sister-in-law.

The dinner after was a loud and rowdy affair, except for Sabine who kept mostly quiet, content to sit by Guy’s side and hold his hand, and enjoy the exquisite array of sweets that kept getting passed around. Sweets had been a rare treat at the nunnery, but she was coming to learn that she had quite the sweet tooth, especially the ones flavored with berries. Guy felt like embracing the world. Everything he had hoped for was coming true, and when he smiled at Sabine, she would smile back, and he leaned over and kissed her and she kissed him in return. Life was sweeter than the treats she kept popping into her mouth, though they flavored her lips deliciously.

Eventually, though, the evening came to its end.  As the guests were taking their leave, Sabine turned to Guy. “There is something I have for you. Please excuse me while I go retrieve it.”

Guy watched as Sabine left, amused that she still forgot she had servants to fetch things for her. He rather enjoyed having his own servants after so long of being the one in the livery himself.

Sabine hurried to the still room to retrieve the new batch of the salve she had made for him. His hands were softer now than when she had examined them the first day so she knew he was using it. She had added a few drops of orange oil and cloves to this batch. It was so light she wasn’t sure he would even notice the fragrance, but she had noted that he always chose oranges from the bowls of fruit at meals. She stopped to write a note to go with it, struggling with the words to tell him that she had noticed the difference in the feel of his hands without seeming too forward. She lost count of the number of sheets of parchment she crumbled and threw away with failed attempts.

She was almost back to where Guy was waiting for her when she heard her father say, “Lord Birchbury has been arrested on charges of treason.”

Sabine stopped in the dim hallway to listen. She had never understood her father’s need to shoo her away before discussing things of importance, especially now that she would be marrying a marquess. She needed to understand how the court and the larger world functioned.

“But you know he’s not guilty,” Guy answered.

Her father chuckled. “Of course I do, but he’s been an outspoken advocate for an alliance with the emperor, even during this fuss over the king’s marriage. If I can get rid of a nuisance to the king as a side-benefit of our little plan, then even better.”

There was a long silence and Sabine moved to enter the room before she heard Guy speak again and she retreated into the shadows, wanting to hear more about this plan. “What had he done to you, your grace? Why did you pick his livery out of all the options you had available?”

Her father laughed, the sound muffled and she knew he was drinking even more wine. “Ah, very good; you’re learning. I knew whoever I chose would be discredited, but arrested for treason was a side benefit. As to what he did, he insulted my horse once.”

“So you’ll let him be tortured and killed because he insulted your horse? This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“You got what you wanted out of it. Don’t begrudge me my own little happiness, Corbank.”

 Again there was a long silence and Sabine waited as long as she was able before she stepped into the doorway. “What plan, father?”

All three of the men looked at each other in surprise before her father answered. “It’s none of your concern, girl.”

Sabine noticed that both Ursula and Myfeyny were no longer in the room. Her brother still was and she wondered what part in the plan he had played from his lands to the north. “What plan? Birchbury’s livery was what the assassin was wearing, father. Did you have something to do with that?” Her father didn’t answer so she turned to her betrothed. “Guy?”

“It’s none of your concern, Sabine.”

She was used to her father dismissing her, but coming from Guy it laid a new wound across her heart. He had always been willing to explain anything she didn’t understand. “It  _is_  my concern! I may be a woman but that does not mean I cannot think.” She had thought he admired her mind; he had never treated her so dismissively before. “Did you conspire to kill the king, father?”

Her father settled back into his huge overstuffed chair. “Of course not. What benefit would I get from a dead king and a Spanish girl on the throne? The country would be plunged into war. It would be a disaster.” He waved his hand dismissively at the whole idea.

“You’re right. Because Guy stopped the assassin. You didn’t want the king killed.” She stopped for a few seconds as she though through everything she had heard and seen. “You wanted the king to think he was going to be killed so you could be the hero and stop it.” She turned to Guy, her hands shaking as the final stitches in the picture were placed. Her voice shook worse than her hands. “You killed him so you could be a hero?”

Guy could see his façade crack and fall in her eyes. “Go to your rooms, Sabine,” he said, a note of pleading in his voice.

“No. You are not my husband yet. You cannot order me about.” She stalked across the room and slapped him across the face. “You murdered that man! You murdered him to get yourself land and a title!”

Guy’s sneer twisted his jaw as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her once. “It wasn’t murder, I was protecting the king.”

“Did you know he was going to be there? I thought you were coming towards me and Charles, but you were walking towards that man. Did you conspire with him to kill the king and then change your mind? How did you get him to go along with you, you vile sinner?”

“That’s enough, Sabine,” her father snarled.

She whirled around and threw the pot of salve at the wall above her father’s head, fiercely happy as it splattered over her father. “No. Tell me what happened. I deserve to know.”

Her father very carefully wiped the cream from his face and then slowly stood. Sabine had forgotten how large he was until he began to march towards her, speaking softly. “The man wanted to kill the king. I found out about it through some of my informants and threatened to have him arrested. You probably would have liked him daughter. One of those religious zealots going on about how the king was defiling the sacrament of marriage and the primacy of the pope. So I made a deal with him. I would help him get into the castle and he would try to kill the king at the time and place I indicated. In return, I would give him thirty pieces of gold for his family, because we would try and stop him from killing the king. And I promised him that if he ever betrayed me, I would disembowel his living children in front of him.”

Sabine trembled as she stared at up her father. The grey wirey hairs in his beard seemed to twine together like demons playing hide and seek, watching her from some infernal forest. “Why would you do something like that? You should have just had him arrested.”

His smile was malevolent. “Ah, but what would I have gotten out of that? Now I have the gratitude of the king, a new ally with lands of his own that I know will never betray me, and a safe place to marry off my daughter where I know she and her children can’t be used against me. Between Corbank’s lands, which I helped the king choose, my lands, and those that Myfeyny brought with her when she married your brother, we control most of the north, girl. We will be a force to be reckoned with.”

“I will not marry him.” Sabine spit out the words one at a time, wishing they were actual stones she could throw at her father’s head.

Her father’s smile faded and the deep lines around his eyes took on the appearance of crevasses leading to the depths of hell. “You have no choice, girl. You’ve signed the paper. That betrothal is legally binding and you’ll marry him as soon as the king’s trial is over.”

“I’ll take the veil first,” she shouted.

Greymont stooped so he was looking his daughter directly in the eyes. His voice was soft but terrible. “I will haul you out of the convent and drag you down the chapel by your hair if I have to, child. Do not try my temper. You will not like the taste of it.”

Sabine turned and ran from the room. Guy swore and chased after her; she was on the stairs when he finally caught her and grabbed her by her trailing sleeve. He whirled her around to face him but before he could get a word out she shoved him with all her force. Caught off balance, he fell backwards and she ran as he stumbled down a few stairs before grabbing a hold of the railing and steadying himself. Sabine could hear his footsteps pounding down the hall as she slammed the door to her rooms shut. She shrieked in shock when he threw the door open.

“Damnit, woman. You will not treat me like that,” he roared.

Sabine backed away from him, terrified of his anger and hating herself for showing it. “You are not welcome in my private rooms, my lord. I have that privacy at least until we are married.” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice from quavering.

Guy did not care about her voice. His chance at convincing her to love him was over. He knew that now. Love didn’t matter, he told himself. All he needed was a wife. “We will be married, Sabine. Do not sit up here plotting ways to make me go away, because they will not succeed. I have toiled and scraped and groveled at the feet of too many men like your father to have my final victory snatched away from me by a willful girl who has no understanding of how the world works.”

Sabine turned her back on the man she was doomed to marry. “You talk of my father as if you are not just like him.”

“He is one of the most powerful men in England. Why should I not aspire to be like him?”

“Because he is a beast,” she yelled at him. She gripped the table in front of her with both hands, fighting the urge to pick up one of the meaningless decorations and throw it at him. Her head dropped and she spoke to the table rather than to him, her heart savaged with the new revelations and crushed hopes for her future. “I thought Charles was the one seducing me with a false front, but at least he was honest about who he was. You have hidden your true nature like a snake in the grass until I picked you up, murderer.”

Guy grabbed her by both shoulders and spun her around and then grabbed her hands when she tried to shove him, pressing the ring he had just given her painfully against her fingers. “Well, Sister Eve, you have fallen for the snake’s tricks again because you have partaken of the fruit once more. Your signature on the contract is your fall. You will be mine, whether you will it now or not.”

Sabine bit her tongue until the pain made the tears recede. “And my future is all thistles and thorns and I shall find sorrow in conception. I will never love you.” She hurled the words at him like a cannonball.

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her, his long hair falling forward to shadow his face. “I do not need your love, Sabine. I have survived cold decades without it. I may not ever have your heart, but I will have your obedience and your fidelity. Is that understood?”

His eyes which had always seemed so warm and soft when they had looked at her before were as hard and cold as the ice on a winter pond. “Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” He dropped her hands and left her rooms, shutting the door quietly behind him. Sabine stood quietly in the middle of her room for a long moment as she collected her thoughts and waited for her racing heart to calm. Then she called for her maid. Thorns and thistles were the rightful place of every woman in this world, and she had sinned to hope for anything more comfortable. Memories of sweet words tasted of ash now and all her dreams had crumbled to dust.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The legatine court scene is taken verbatim from The Tudors, season one, episode eight.

Sabine began keeping to her rooms. Guy would call on her and she refused to see him. The last time he came to see her, he left rebuffed again and as he walked back to his horse in the courtyard, he stopped and looked up at her bedroom window, the same window in which he had sat with her, and held her hand, and asked her to marry him. Sabine felt like her heart had been cleft in twain. Guy had offered to displace Charles in her heart, and while he had managed to earn himself a place there, still part of it belonged to Charles. Charles had never murdered someone, and though he had behaved improperly with her, at least he had asked for forgiveness. Guy saw her sitting there and bowed to her, and she turned away from him.

The next day a letter was delivered to her house.

_Lady Greymont,_

_As my company displeases you I will no longer seek you out. I had thought you might want to be on more familiar terms with the man whom you will wed, but if you prefer a stranger to take you to the altar, I will accede to your wishes._

_Lord Corbank_

Sabine neatly refolded the letter and then crumpled it in her hand as a pang of shame and fear pierced her to her soul. She tossed the scrap of paper into the fire and watched it go up in flames.

>< 

Sabine sat on the bench next to Guy. Her father had told her she was going to behave herself and sit next to her betrothed at the trial and act like she was happy. So she did. She kept a polite smile on her face, sat with her hands folded in her lap, and ignored Guy. He picked up one of her hands, and when she tried to pull it away, he gripped it tighter. “Where is your ring?”

“I am wearing a ring.”

“The ring I gave you.”

She didn’t even bother looking at him. “I must have forgotten to put it on this morning after I washed my hands.”

“See that you don’t forget again.” He dropped her hand.

She turned her head to watch as the bishops entered, and then stood with the rest of the assemblage when the king entered, surrounded by his dukes. She avoided looking at her father, instead choosing to rest her gaze on Charles. His eyes caught hers for a moment as he scanned the crowd, and before he looked away, she smiled at him. She saw the hesitation in his expression before he smiled back.

Guy looked back and forth between them. “You seem to have gotten over your last encounter with Suffolk.”

“Forgiveness is a virtue. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Guy bent so he was whispering in her ear. “And have you no forgiveness for me?”

Sabine did her best to ignore the sensation of his breath on her skin, the warmth of his face so close to hers. She could not completely forget the tender touch of his lips or the way he had held her face, no matter how many hours she prayed for surcease from the way the memories tortured her waking hours and even her dreams. “Forgiveness requires repentance, my lord, and you do not seem to be repentant.”

She curtsied as the queen walked by, regal in appearance and demeanor, like one of the Christian saints of old knowing they were going to their doom.

As the court was called into session, Cardinal Wolsey sat next to Cardinal Campeggio, who had travelled to Rome as the Pope’s representative, on the dais along with the other members of the legatine court. Sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows behind them, casting rainbows on the floor between where the king and queen sat on opposite sides of the dais facing each other.  Cardinal Wolsey gave the king the opportunity to present his cause.

King Henry stood, clutching a bible to his chest. “Your Eminences know well what cause I have to be here. It concerns some scruples I have regarding my marriage which prick my conscience. I have consulted widely to discover the truth. And I have read in Leviticus that it was against God's law and a sin, for me to marry my brother's wife. Your Eminences I am not the only one who questions the validity of my marriage. All of my bishops share my doubts and they have signed a petition to put the matter to question.”

Bishop Fisher, who was serving as the queen’s counsel, interrupted the king’s speech. “My Lords, I tell you now I never signed my name to any such document.  And if it appears there –

Wolsey cut him off. “Court has not invited you to speak.”

Fisher spoke over him. “If it appears there, then Bishop Tunstall wrote it without my consent.”

“The king has the floor. Sit down, sir.” Wolsey pounded his hand on the table. “Sit.”

The king sucked his teeth as he glared at the Bishop. “I'm not going to argue with you now. After all, you are but one man. As for the main issue if I am asked why I waited so long to bring this question to trial I shall answer truthfully. That it was the great love that I bore for Her Majesty which prevented me doing so. It is I, myself, who bear all responsibility for my conscience which troubles and doubts me. Gentlemen of the court I ask for one thing and one thing only. Justice.”

The king sat and Cardinal Wolsey began to speak again. Sabine wondered why Campeggio was not more involved in the trial as he was nominally in charge. He looked very ill, with an ashen pallor to his pale skin that caused her much concern. “In a moment, the court will call upon the queen's majesty to reply to the king's statement. But first, I must tell the court that the queen has sought, through her advisers to question the competence of this court to try her case. Further, she questions the impartiality of her judges. Finally, she contends that this matter is in the hands of a higher authority, namely the pope and therefore can only be tried in Rome. Now, as for the first matter. Cardinal Campeggio and I can confirm that we have the necessary authorization from His Holiness to try this matter here. Further, we reject any notion of prejudice on our part and will continue to try the case here as we have been appointed. So I call upon Her Majesty, Queen Katherine, to address the court.”

The queen stood, but instead of talking to the cardinals she sank to her knees in front of the king. A ripple of surprise washed through the crowd and many people stood to get a better view. “My lord. Sir. I beseech you for all the love that has been between us let me have justice and right. Give me some pity and compassion, for I am a poor woman and a stranger born out of your dominion. I have no friend here and little counsel. I flee to you, as head of justice in this realm. I call God and all the world to witness that I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife ever comfortable to your will and pleasure. I have loved all those whom you have loved, for your sake. Whether or not I had cause, whether they be my friends or enemies. By me, you have had many children although it has pleased God to call them from this world. But when you had me at first I take God as my judge I was a true maid without touch of man. And whether or not it be true I put it to your conscience.”

Queen Katherine stood and curtsied to the king, and then walked out of the church. The assembly scrambled to their feet for her unexpected exit as the court descended into chaos. Someone was shouting at her to come back, Wolsey was screaming at Campeggio that the queen was in contempt of the court, and Henry sat, silently fuming.

Though all around her with chattering about what this meant for the trial, Sabine was more interested in watching. Wolsey was apologizing to the king, and when he made to leave, Charles got in his way and said something to Wolsey, who snarled something in reply. She was too far away to hear the interchange. Now, her father was bent over having a hushed conversation to the king. Campeggio slumped in his chair, looking pale and grey as damp wool.

Finally, Wolsey stormed out of the church, which seemed to be the cue for others to leave. The king departed first, and others slowly made their way out of Blackfriar’s as their conversations ended.  As Charles passed by with a nod of his head, Sabine softly said, “Your grace?”

Charles turned to her. “My lady.”

“What will happen now with the trial?”

Charles pointedly ignored Corbank looming behind her as he answered her question, feeling a smile spread over his face as he talked about this most serious matter. He had received her one sentence letter on returning to court, and though he knew he had been forgiven, the curt reply had made him think that she didn’t want any contact between them to continue. He should have known better. For a woman as devout as she was, forgiveness truly meant something. “The trial will continue, though of course, the king and the cardinal will both attempt to persuade the queen to come back.”

“And if she does not?”

“Then it will probably be argued as proof of the king’s argument that she will not submit to the court.”

Sabine leaned in closer, feeling like her next question should be a secret. “Why did no one mention the mistress Boleyn? Everyone knows,” she continued.

Charles put his hand over her mouth for a moment, just long enough to stop her talking. “You would be wise not to mention her. There is a difference between what everyone knows and what is safe to discuss.” He nodded to her. “Forgive me, I must go now. The king will have need of me.”

“Of course, your grace. Thank you for your time.” She curtsied and he took his leave.

Guy considered telling her that her attempts to make him jealous were transparent, but he decided to let her play her little games if it made her feel better. She was too virtuous to give the duke anything to which he was not entitled. If she wanted to flirt with Charles in front of him, at least she would be with him. That was an improvement over the last few weeks.

Guy escorted her home, a quiet journey, and as soon as he left, she hurried up the stairs to her rooms. She sat at her writing table and pulled out a stack of paper and ink. Just because she wasn’t allowed to say things out loud didn’t mean she couldn’t write them.

>< 

Sabine was quiet at dinner at Guy’s new home. Her father had ordered her to attend or she would have stayed home. He had seated her at his right but she ignored him as much as she could without drawing her father’s ire. The rest of the family was there as well. Her father sat at the other end of the table with Ursula at his right. Walter and Myfeyny were there, as well as Agnes and William. The servants she had helped him employ were doing an excellent job at keeping the glasses full and the table covered with food. A platter of sweets had been set in front of her, all of them with the beautiful jewel tones of fresh berries. She was reaching for one when Guy said, “I had them made especial for you. I noticed at our betrothal banquet that you had a fondness for them.”

She paused, wanting to reject his kindness but knowing it would be unbearably rude. “Thank you, my lord. That was very thoughtful.” She picked up the treat and carefully took a bite, aware that he was watching her.

“I wish you would call me Guy again,” he said softly, before his attention was taken away by her father. 

“When do you want to have the wedding, Corbank? With the court a failure and being referred up to Rome until October, I don’t think the previous plan of waiting until after the matter is resolved a good idea anymore. Besides, now is a good as time as any to go see to your new properties. The king is in a foul temper and will probably abandon court soon in a long progress or a hunt.”

“Is his mood just because of the failed court, father?” Walter asked.

“That’s the worst of it, but there’s some anonymous pamphlet circulating calling the king a sinner and urging him to repent before he brings upon himself and his country the judgment of God. And he found out yesterday that his sister died. Suffolk hadn’t even told him that she was sick. He needs to watch himself; if he angers the king again I don’t think the next banishment will be temporary.”

Guy watched as Sabine’s face paled at her father’s news.  “Suffolk’s wife died?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed, beady circles that sunk into his round face like a wild boar’s. “Thinking you shouldn’t have settled so fast and you could have been a duchess?” Her father snorted. “Well, put the thought out of your mind. I would never have let you marry him. Suffolk’s first loyalty will always be to the king.”

Sabine flushed red and then her skin went white again. “That is not why I was asking, father. I shall have to arrange proper shows of mourning for the death of a member of the royal family. It is important news and you should not keep such things from me.” She reached for another sweet, not caring if Guy had made them with his own two hands at this point. She sucked on the sweet filling, wishing to calm her temper and fight back the angry tears that she could taste in her mouth. This was her reward for her impulsiveness. Charles was now free and she was betrothed. If she hadn’t been so impatient they might have been able to work something out. If Suffolk really was that close of a confidante of the king, they could have sought his permission to marry, for surely her father would have bent to the will of the king.

Guy picked up the conversation before her father could rebuke her for her temerity in arguing with him. “I hear Wolsey has fallen out of the good graces of the king.”

“He had to know this would happen if he couldn’t get the divorce the king wanted. Sir Thomas More has been appointed chancellor in his stead.”

Walter added, “I’ve heard rumors that More is the actual author of that pamphlet.”

Greymont shook his head as he stabbed another piece of venison off of the platter with his fork. “More wouldn’t be so foolish as to put those thoughts in writing.”

“What is this pamphlet you are all talking about?” Sabine asked.

“You would know these things if you attended court, Sabine. Do not think to scold me for not telling you information when you could drink of its fountain yourself.”

Her father knew why she was refusing to attend court, and so did Guy, but Guy took mercy upon her. “It is called Deadly Sins, and explicates, in great detail, how the king seeking an annulment of his marriage to the queen is not a matter of his conscience but of his lust, pride and envy.”

Agnes jumped in. It seems that everyone at the table had read it. “The author spends a great amount of time calling on the king to repent now while there is still time, to take Katherine back into his heart, and to rid himself of the sinful temptation of the mistress Boleyn.”

“It is quite exciting reading,” Ursula said. “I have a copy of it if you should like to read it, Sabine.”

Her father slammed the table and everyone jumped. “You will burn that treasonous trash at once! Just owning it is enough to get yourself thrown in prison.”

Ursula looked away from the duke and his reddened face. “Yes, your grace.”

Greymont turned from scolding his mistress to scolding his daughter. “Sabine, you will start attending court with me every day that I go, starting tomorrow. I will brook no disobedience about this. “

Already pale from her father’s outburst, she quietly agreed. “Yes, father.”

“Now, as to your wedding, I think a month from now would be a good time to have it. That will provide plenty of time for the rest of the arrangements to be made.”

Guy looked to Sabine, who was studiously avoiding looking at him. “That sounds perfect, your grace.”

The rest of the dinner was spent discussing details of the wedding and the celebration to follow. Sabine was noticeably silent. “Aren’t you excited for your wedding, dear?” Ursula asked.

When Sabine didn’t answer, Agnes stepped in for her. “I imagine she’s nervous about the wedding night.”

“Oh, child, I could give you some advice if you would like.”

Sabine’s head snapped up and her wide eyes darted between Ursula and her father. “No, thank you.”

The men at the table, excepting Guy, erupted in laughter and Sabine could not stand the humiliation. Without waiting for a servant’s help, she shoved back her chair and fled from the dining room.

Guy finally found her, with the help of some servants, sitting on the back staircase, her head in her hands. Acting like nothing was odd about her choice of a seat, he sat down on the step next to her, though he had to shove aside her skirt to do so. He placed a fluffy ball of white and brown and black in her arms. “I have been remiss in bringing you gifts, so I thought this might help make up for it.”

“You bought me a dog?”

Guy smiled as she hugged the puppy, hiding her face in the animal’s soft fur. “I see how you are with animals. You treat my horse like a spoiled child, and you pet all the dogs you see, and you have been sneaking milk and chopped meat out to the mother cat in the stables.”

She looked up from the animal in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

Her eyes were wide and dark in the stairwell, the only light provided by the moon coming in from a few narrow windows. The longer they sat there, the better he could see her and the way her hands were trembling, even after petting the dog. “I pay attention.” Guy smiled. “You have a need to give affection, and I would say a need to receive it as well. I was hoping I might be the recipient of such an honor, but in your discernment, you have judged me undeserving of your care. I hope this dog will provide for you what I am unworthy to do.”

“Guy,” Sabine started, feeling cut to the quick, but didn’t know what to say next.

“I know you wished for a better husband than the one you will end up with, but please, don’t let that keep you from enjoying what I can give you.”

Her face crumpled and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Guy shifted her so his arm was around her. She didn’t say anything else and he didn’t press, worried about damaging the tenuous peace that existed between them in shadowed stairwell as she petted her new dog and rested against him. Eventually, when the urge to tilt her face up to his and kiss her again, to strengthen the fragile bonds that they had reestablished, grew to the point where he was struggling to resist them, he said, “We should probably rejoin the others.”

“Of course. Thank you for sitting with me while I calmed my nerves.”

He helped her to feet and smiled as she kept the dog in her arms. They found the others in the card room and Sabine claimed a chair in the corner near the fire. She put the dog on the ground and watched as he began to explore the new room. Guy returned to her a few minutes later with a glass of wine and plate of sweets for her.

“Thank you, Guy,” she said softly. She took one of the treats and popped it into her mouth as he sat down next to her.

“Now, I have a very serious question for you.”

She sat up straighter and smoothed her skirt. He saw a faint tremor in her hand. “What is it, my lord?”

“What are you going to name your dog?”

She gaped for a moment before he smiled and she began to laugh. The sound drew the attention of the others from its sheer novelty and the women exchanged relieved glances before returning to their cards. “You had me scared.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it “Forgive me,” he asked, and she knew it was not just for startling her.

Her smile faded and she looked away from him. She clucked to the dog and he raced over and she picked him up and deposited him in her lap, reclaiming her hand from Guy in the process. She petted the dog until he settled into a sleepy ball in her lap. “I think I shall call him Gisborne,” she said softly.

Guy sat back in his chair and watched her give Gisborne the attention he craved for himself. “I like that name.” It was a start.


	10. Chapter 10

Sabine exited the small chapel in her home after a morning spent in prayer, seeking the peace she had always had at the convent. There she had never felt the turmoil she did here. Charles was now unattached, and she had hastened herself into a marriage with a man who had turned out to be a murderer. And yet Guy had a gentle side, though perhaps she was the only one he showed it to and seemed genuinely fond of her. He even said he loved her. She had only seen him once in the last three days since he had sat with her on the stairs in her fear and embarrassment and the feel of his arm around her and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as she had rested against him had accompanied her into her dreams each night. The one time she had seen him since had been at the funeral for Charles’s wife. She had stared straight ahead the entire time, refusing to let herself be distracted from the funeral mass by the sight of Charles’s bent head. Neither had she taken Guy’s hand for comfort. She had prayed for the strength to rid Charles from her heart. She wanted to be a good wife, and she knew that her affection for Charles would drive a wedge between her and her husband, but she found it difficult to pray for the strength to fully love a man that rejected so much of what she believed important.

As she turned to proceed down the hall, a voice called her name. She turned around and saw Corbank lounging against the wall on the other side of the chapel’s entrance, his arms folded over his chest. “Sir Guy, I mean, my lord, I didn’t see you standing there.”

“I stood here on purpose so you wouldn’t. I thought if you did see me you would be unlikely to come out of the chapel.”

She returned to stand in front of him, noting the blue embroidery in his jerkin. It was the same one he had worn the day he had offered to protect her from her father. She curtsied, feeling oddly detached from herself and from him. Perhaps this was her answer. Perhaps she was not meant to love him. “Have you been waiting long?”

He pushed himself off of the wall with a smirk. “You pray more than anyone I have ever known.”

Sabine clasped her hands in front of her to keep from treating her rosary as a worry stone. “I am sorry for inconveniencing you, my lord. You should have come in.” She could not look up at him again. Whenever she did, she would find herself fascinated by the blue of his eyes and end up staring like a child seeing their first rainbow.

“I would not disturb you at your prayers. I may not be as devout as you, but I am not an infidel or a barbarian either.” He reached for her hand, hoping to calm her again the way he had a few nights before. That she was so scared of him felt like someone was driving hot nails into his skin.

Sabine pulled back from him, not willing to grant him any intimacy. She knew it was accepted for betrothed couples to anticipate the marriage vows, but she did not want Guy to think that her moment of weakness a few nights before meant she was welcoming his advances. “I do not think you an infidel or a barbarian, my lord.”

“And yet you shrink from my touch as if it would defile you.”

“I am not used to the touch of men.”

Guy’s angry breath was half growl as he gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Do not dissemble with me. If I tried to kiss you right now, you wouldn’t let me, and yet before you knew of my past, you did. You were at peace in my arms, Sabine.”

She pushed his hand away but her new anger allowed her to keep glaring at him. “How am I supposed to love you, my lord? Your behavior is so foreign that I do not understand how we are of the same country.”

“It’s because I live in the world, and you live closed up in this small little cell where there are no actual challenges to be faced, where right and wrong are easily determined, and where your position and power protect you from ever doing anything questionable. Your father used me to kill that man because he didn’t want to dirty his own hands, and I killed him Sabine, because I wanted a chance to restore my family’s name and honor, to have enough land of my own so that I might never have to follow another order I didn’t believe in. I have clawed my way out of the muck, Sabine, so that I can be the man I was supposed to be from the beginning.”

“The muck clings to you, my lord, even with your fancy new title.”

“What would you have had me do, woman? Stay a lowly landless knight, dependent on the good will of others for a roof over my head and a hot meal on the table, subject to every order that came my way, regardless of how vile?”

“You killed a man!”

“He was trying to kill the king!” Guy shouted in response, his voice echoing in the hall. Aware that there were servants around, he immediately dropped his voice. “And I am a knight, sworn to protect and defend. That is my oath. There are bad people in the world and sometimes the wheels of justice move too slow.”

Sabine’s mouth worked wordlessly as she tried to come up with a rebuttal. The convent had been attacked one particularly hard winter. She would have wished for a knight to protect her and the other sisters that night. “You could have gone to the king and told him of my father’s plot,” she finally said halfheartedly.

Guy could sense her weakening outrage and pressed his advantage. “I would not have even been able to gain an audience with the king. And if, by some chance, I could get word to someone who would have believed me, what proof did I have? Who would have believed me against the word of your father? No one.”

She offered one more objection to his behavior, looking up at him out of the corner of her eyes. “And if you had told my father you would have no part in his scheme?”

“He would have had me killed. Nay, don’t look so surprised. You know he would.”

She recognized when she had been beaten and surrendered with a deep sigh. “I suppose you are correct.”

Guy tipped her chin up so she was looking at him again, this time much more gently. “Sabine, I didn’t do this to become a noble. Your father assumed that I would be given a small amount of land, enough to make myself independent, but keep me tied to him. He underestimated the king’s gratitude. I did not do this to become rich and powerful, Sabine. I did it to be free.” He leaned in closer, letting the breath of his whispered words caress her face instead of his hands and lips. “And I will pray for forgiveness morning and night for the rest of my life if you think I should, but I will also give thanks in those same prayers that it made it possible for you to be my wife. I know you don’t love me, Sabine, but that hasn’t changed that I love you.”

Sabine let the words sink into her heart and perch in the branches of her soul. She knew she needed to stop looking in his eyes, but when she dropped her gaze it landed on his mouth and she could feel them pressed against hers in her memory. Flustered by the strange way in which her body was behaving, she blinked several times and then gently touched his hand, removing it from her face. She stepped back into the chapel.

“Are you returning to prayer?”

She stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back. “You have given me much to think about, my lord.”

“Say a prayer for me, then, Sabine. Pray that I might regain your love.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “You are welcome to come and pray yourself, my lord.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never had much to do with God.”

“Why ever not? Didn’t your parents teach you to pray?”

“Of course, and then God let them die and me and my sister be driven off of our lands. We haven’t really been on speaking terms since.” A lifetime of anger shaded those words.

Sabine held out her hand to him. “God’s ways are not our ways. Perhaps that was part of His way to bring you to me.”

Guy took her hand and enveloped it in his own. “Do you think God brought me to you?”

Sabine did not know what she thought anymore. She felt like she had just tumbled down a hill and the world had not yet settled into up and down. “I do not pretend to understand what God plans for each of us. But if you had stayed the son of a knight, my father would not have given you the opportunity to court me, and you would never have had the chance to win my love.”

He stroked his thumb over her cheek, smiling as she did not pull away from the tender touch. “Do I still have a chance to win your love, Sabine?”

Her eyes closed for just a moment as she turned her face towards his caress. “I cannot think that what you did was right, my lord, but I will pray for understanding, and compassion, and the wisdom to temper justice with mercy.”

“Then I will pray with you, if you do not think I will pollute your chapel.”

She was too well bred to laugh in a church, but he could see the merriment dancing in her eyes. “I’ll make sure to scrub everything twice after you leave.”

He smiled and shook his head and followed her to prayer.

>< 

Sabine was talking with Agnes and Myfeyny when she saw Charles exit the presence chamber. She hadn’t seen him by himself since the funeral. Checking that Guy was not in the room, she excused herself from the other women and crossed the room to him. She curtseyed as he nodded. “Your grace, I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you for your kindness.”

His normal ebullient expression was shadowed. Dark circles under his eyes made it evident that he was still grieving. “How are you faring?”

“It is difficult. Henry wants me at court but I want to be alone somewhere I don’t have to act like everything is fine. And today he has given me the task of finding out who wrote that damnable Deadly Sins pamphlet. He is going to charge the author with treason.”

“But I thought it was anonymous.”

Charles grinned at her naiveté. “Yes, that’s why I have to find out who wrote it. If they had put their name on it like an honest man, then I wouldn’t have to investigate.”

Sabine ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her blushing. “Can you figure out something like that?”

“There are a limited number of people in London who have capability of publishing such a large number of pamphlets so I will start with them.”

“I would image the person who published such a thing would not readily admit it.”

Charles smoothed his hand over his chain of office. She really was such a darling innocent, but he didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. “No, but there are ways of getting people to share information they are initially reluctant to share.”

“Such as paying them?”

“Possibly. Pain works as well. We have some people who are very good at that sort of thing if necessary.” Sabine blanched white at the mention of such barbarism and he grabbed her elbow as she swayed on her feet.

“I’m sorry, your grace. I fear that the thought of such a thing has left me a little light-headed.”

Charles did not relinquish his grasp on her. “I apologize. I forget how delicate your sensibilities are sometimes.”

“Would it be extremely forward of me to ask for you to show me some of the gardens so I might get some fresh air?”

Charles gave her a slow smile and extended his arm. She took it and he led her from the room.

They had been walking together in the gardens for some time when finally Sabine spoke. “The funeral mass was lovely.” The hall was quite a ways behind them and Sabine was starting to think that perhaps she had given Charles the wrong impression when she asked for fresh air.

Charles nodded. “She would have liked it. She always loved beautiful music.”

Sabine thought that surely he must understand that she had merely been trying to comfort him in his loss if she continued to talk about his late wife. There could be nothing improper in that. “You must miss her greatly.”

“I do. More now than when she was alive, all to my sorrow.”

“And yet, if you were true to the word you sent me, your renewed devotion during her last few weeks must have brought her great joy.”

“I wasn’t with her. I left her to come back to court because I was couldn’t stand to be away. I didn’t even know she was ill.”

Her heart softened towards him as she saw the way the guilt tore at him. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he fought to keep from crying. “Well, next time you will have to choose someone who enjoys court life as much as you do.”

“And unfortunately for me, you seem to have gotten betrothed while I was away.” He rubbed his finger over the sapphire she was wearing on her right hand.

Sabine took back her hand and let go of his arm. She took several steps, distancing herself from him physically the way she had tried to emotionally over the last few weeks. “I think it is fortunate for you, Charles. I do not care for court. It is loud and cramped and I have no heart for politics.”

“You would not have to have a heart for politics. I do not care for it myself.”

She turned around so she could see him, but kept walking, backing away from her temptation. He was so charming, and his easy smile was so different from Guy’s stern expression. “But you love being with the king. That will keep you here, regardless of how much you love me. I would stay in Suffolk and your heart would constantly be torn between your two loves, and I would come to resent you.”

Charles started walking towards her. “I think you are refusing me before I’ve even asked.”

She sank onto a stone bench under the drooping boughs of an old tree. “I am saving myself from having to refuse you, because part of me does not know if I am strong enough to do so,” she confessed.

Charles sat down next to her and took her left hand. “I could get the king to break your betrothal, Sabine,” he said softly.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, not trusting herself to look at him completely. “I know you could. It is why I do not want you to ask me.”

“Don’t you love me?”

She closed her eyes, and Charles was surprised to see fine lines of pain emerge at their corners. “It isn’t about love. I don’t think marriage is really about love. It seems such a fleeting thing to me, so easy to change with each new piece of knowledge one gains about the other.”

He gently touched her face and ran a finger over the pain lines that had emerged. “Marriage should always be about love.”

“ _You_ would tell me this? You, who loved your wife less than the time it took for you to return to London.”

Charles dropped his hand as the rebuke struck its target with perfect precision. “If not love, then what?”

“Mutual happiness? Someone who wants the same things out of life?” she asked. She had no idea at this point what she was supposed to be basing a marriage on in this skewed world she now inhabited.

Charles sat back from her and could not hide the bitterness in his voice. “And you think you can find this ‘mutual happiness’ with Corbank?”

“I don’t know. But I know that as much as my heart surges every time I see you, that we would not be happy together, Charles. I want away from here with all my heart, and you left one wife to be here. I would not have you leave another.”

Charles stared at her for a long moment and then rubbed his hand over his forehead. “You are much too sensible.”

“I have had a lot of time recently to think about marriage.”

“I hope you find happiness with him, and even love, though you think it’s not important.”

Sabine let out a sigh of relief that he had conceded his defeat. “And I will pray that you can find someone who you can love with all of your heart and give you no cause to divide your affections.”

They sat together for a moment, both reluctant to leave the other for the final time. Charles finally broke the silence. “I would ask one thing from you before we part.”

“What is that?”

He wrapped her hair around his fingers and pulled her closer to him. “A kiss. Let me have one sweet kiss to remember you by.”

Sabine’s eyes flickered between his eyes and his mouth. His lips were so different from Guy’s. What would it feel like to be kissed by him? “I don’t think that we should, Charles. I am betrothed.”

He cupped her face with his other hand and brought her even closer. “But you are not yet wed. He will have the rest of you. Give me your kiss.”

Her inner struggle was brought to a sudden halt by a familiar voice. “I’ve already had her kiss, Suffolk.”

Sabine’s hands flew to her mouth as she lurched back from Charles. “Guy!”

Suffolk stood up and shook his robe into place. “Corbank.”

“If you don’t mind, your grace, I should like to have a private conversation with my betrothed.”

“Of course.” He nodded to both of them. “Until we talk again, my lady.”

Guy paced back and forth until Suffolk was far enough away that he would not be overheard. “I am becoming tired of having to track you down and finding you alone with him or crying because of him. This isn’t a convent. You will start taking at least one lady in waiting with you everywhere you go, do you understand?”

She raised her chin like a war banner as she glared at him. “You are not my husband yet. Do not order me about.”

Guy came to a halt in front of her and stood with his hands on his hips and his feet spread. “I am your husband in all but name. I could bed you right now and there is not a priest in this country that would find fault with what I did. You are my betrothed, Sabine. You are mine, and you will either take direction from my hand or from your father’s, and you may chafe under my hand but you will bruise under his.”

She surged to her feet. “Are you threatening me? Do what I say or I will have your father beat you?”

“No!” He ran a hand through his hair, grabbing at it in frustration as he looked away from her. When he could finally unclench his jaw, he struggled to keep his words low and gentle. “Sabine, you drive me to distraction. Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“I was trying to console him about the loss of his wife, and he started talking about how he can marry now. Why is this my fault? I was trying to be nice.”

“And so you followed him out in a garden with no lady in waiting. What was he going to think?”

“I used to work in the vegetable garden by myself all the time. No passing priest ever asked me to marry him.”

He kicked a clod of grass and waited until it landed a distance off before he spoke. “Because priests can’t marry, Sabine. But Charles can. And for the sake of all that is good and holy, the court of Henry VIII isn’t a convent,” he roared.

She turned her back on him and crossed her arms across her bosom. “I have learned that much to my regret.”

Guy’s hands clenched into fists as he fought the impulse to spin her around and kiss her into submission. She would melt in his arms if she would ever give him the chance. “We are going to be married, Sabine.”

“I know that,” she shot back.

Guy took a deep breath. He would not yell at her again. He would control his temper. Every time he thought they were making progress towards a full reconciliation, she did something that would put a match to the fuse of his temper. “I would appreciate it if you could stop attempting to make me jealous.

She spun around and stamped a foot. “I was _not_ trying to make you jealous. I was trying to be nice.”

“You have never tried to make me jealous? You have never talked to him in front of me so that I would see it and worry over my place in your heart?”

Her chin lowered a few degrees. “Well, no.” She had the good grace to look embarrassed. “But today I was just trying to be nice,” she added, the now familiar angry glint back in her eyes.

“I’ve had my affections toyed with before. Perhaps you don’t know the pain of having the person you love promise you her heart and then give it and her body to someone else, but I do.”

“I would never,” she started.

“I know.” He cut her off. “You are not like her in some ways, and that is one of them. I don’t think you would willingly violate my trust. However, you are an innocent in so many ways, and I fear that you may be taken advantage of.”

She sniffed and turned her back on him again. “You just don’t like Charles because I gave him my favors.”

Her easy dismissal of his fears did nothing to calm the ball of anger sitting in his stomach. “It did not help his cause, but I have little respect for men who trade on the wealth and name of their friends to provide for them a living.”

Her sharp burst of laughter flayed his nerves. “It could be said that you did the same thing. If it wasn’t for you trading on your father’s friendship with my father, you would still be an unknown knight in some German duchy.”

He grabbed her and spun her around and then held her tight by the upper arms so she could not escape. “And I hate myself for how I got here. I hate myself, Sabine,” he shouted at her. ”Is that what you wanted to hear from me? Shall I kneel and flagellate myself bloody in front of you to gain some small drop of your forgiveness? Do you want me to crawl on my hands and knees over cobble stones and kiss the feet of some statue in a foreign cathedral? Are there the bones of some saint I could acquire that would cleanse me of my past? Stop torturing me by holding the hope of your forgiveness just out of my reach!”

Sabine cowered in front of him, unable to flee from the grip he had on her arms. Even in her fear part of her noticed that he didn’t grip her so tightly that it hurt, just enough hold her still. “You scare me when you get like this. You turn into my father.”

Guy dropped his hands and turned away from her. He rubbed his head tiredly. “I’m not a good man, Sabine. I have a foul heart, but I would give it all to you.”

He wore his pain like a cloak of thorns and it caused her to ache with a desire to take it from him.  “And what am I to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I had the thought once that if I could earn the love of someone pure and good like you that it would cleanse my heart and my past. I would be a new person. But I know that while you marry me, I cannot hope that you would love me. I am a beast, and you are –,”

She interrupted him. “Don’t call me an angel. I am not an angel. And you are not a beast.”

He turned back towards her. She could see the exhaustion in his face. The defeat. The surrender to the belief that he would never rise above her current low estimation of his worth. “No, Sabine. This is who I am. I will be always be jealous of the men that compete for your attention. You are lucky I didn’t punch him in the face for attempting to kiss you.”

“I would suggest that Charles is the lucky one for he is the one that would have been punched in the face,” she muttered.

She was looking at the ground but Guy had the sneaking suspicion it was because she was trying not to laugh. He tipped her face up towards him with a finger under her chin. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright. Her chest trembled with the attempt to stifle her laughter. Guy shook his head and laughed. “Is this how we shall be in our marriage? You will drive me to frustration and I will rage and then you will make a joke and laugh and I will be unable to remember why I was angry at all?”

“I cannot rightly say. I have no experience with marriage. But I will try to remember to take a lady in waiting with me when I am not with you.”

“Thank you. That will be a source of great peace to me.”

Sabine seated herself again on the bench and patted the spot next to her. Guy smirked and took the seat. “I have something more I would say.”

“Go on.”

“I have spent many hours praying and meditating in the last week and I have come to the conclusion that if I had been put in the same situation as you had been, that I might have done the same thing. I know what my father is capable of. It’s the reason that I accepted your suit, so that you could protect me from his anger. You don’t have anyone who can protect you, and I have no idea what that is like. Even at the convent, when no one knew if I would ever see my father again, I was aware that I was different, and that as the daughter of a duke, I could expect a certain leniency in discipline if I were to misbehave. I have judged you harshly, and that is not my place.”

Guy reached over and placed his hand over hers as she fidgeted with her girdle, rolling the pearls between her fingers. “What are you saying, Sabine?” He was choking on his hope.

She looked up at him. “I’m saying I forgive you.”

He couldn’t breathe at first. It was like being hit in the chest with a lance. When he finally persuaded his lungs to start working, he couldn’t decide what to say. Finally, he choked out a few words. “You are not in jest?”

“No, my lord. I would not tease about this.”

He forced himself to take a full breath. “I fear I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Thank you, Sabine.”

Her smile was soft as she ducked her head again. “There is one more thing, my lord. Suffolk tried to take a kiss from me. I would give it to you now, if you would have it.”

Guy slid his hand into her hair and cradled her head as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyes had already shut by the time their lips touched. She was as soft as he remembered. He slid his arm around her waist, cursing the bulk of her dress as he tugged her closer, and the layers of his new clothes as well. He left his hand resting over the laces on the back of her dress, teasing himself with the feel of them and the knowledge that it was another week before he would get to undo them again.

Sabine leaned into him and rested her hands against his chest as his mouth moved again. She had remembered this in the weeks since their betrothal, not just the feel of him but the happiness she had felt that night as she sat next to him, the solid warmth of him that reminded her of the old trees she had played under as a child. Her hands slowly moved up his chest until she could link her arms behind his neck and Guy slid both of his arms around her, pulling her even tighter against him.

He had been furious to see how close Charles had come to kissing her, to tasting her sweetness that needed no berries or jellies to enhance it. Her lips were the most precious thing he had ever touched, and as their mouths met again, his relief as finally having earned her forgiveness settled over him. He had been dreading their wedding night if she had still been angry with him, but her tender innocence mixed with budding desire he could handle. She was innocent, probably more innocent than he could even comprehend, he reminded himself as he pulled back from her and pressed a final kiss to her hairline.

Her cheeks were more pink now than they had been earlier when she had been laughing and she drew a shaky breath before she looked at him. “I think I should like to sit here for a few moments before I return inside, if that will not inconvenience you.”

“There is nothing I would more gladly do than be here.” He put his arm around her shoulders and she sat quietly as he stroked her hair. If there was one thing he would regret about marrying her, it was that she would have to start covering her hair. It was beautiful and fell almost to her waist and felt like silk under his fingers. He consoled himself that he would have plenty of time to play with it at night.

>< 

Corbank looked up from the papers he was reading as his usher opened the door. The final agreements and deeds of property transfer had been drawn up in advance of the wedding in three days, and he was amused and fascinated by the change in his circumstances in the last few months. “My lord, his grace, the Duke of Suffolk to see you.”

Guy stood as Suffolk swept into the room. “Suffolk, I’m rather surprised to see you here.”

“We need to talk.”

Guy waved Suffolk to a seat and retook his own. “I can’t image about what.”

Suffolk drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “About Sabine.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Corbank’s servant poured wine for Suffolk and refilled Guy’s cup before he retreated to stand against the wall. Guy slowly gathered the papers on his desk into a neat pile as he regarded Charles across the wide expanse of his desk. “I don’t think Sabine is any of your concern, Suffolk.”

Charles tossed a pamphlet on his desk. “Are you familiar with this?”

Guy picked up the folded paper and read the title. Deadly Sins. He dropped it again and wiped his hand on his jerkin. “Why are you bringing me that treasonous rubbish?”

“Because Sabine wrote it.” Suffolk took a drink and calmly watched Corbank over the rim of his goblet. He didn’t care for the man, but for Sabine’s safety, he could cooperate with him, as long as Corbank valued Sabine as highly as he hoped.

Guy had spent too much time in royal courts to take this revelation from his rival at face value. “Is this a trick?”

Charles had known Guy wouldn’t believe him right away. If their situations were reversed, he wouldn’t have believed him either. “I wish it were. The publisher was quite certain it was her.”

“He could be lying.”

“If he were going to lie, why choose someone so completely unbelievable?”

Suffolk had a point there. No one would expect a woman author, especially someone of her youth, and angering her father would be a foolish move for even the most powerful factions at court. “But, Sabine? People were speculating that More wrote it. How could she possibly write anything to be compared with him?”

It had stunned him as well that Sabine, his sweet innocent angel, had written such a learned and divisive argument with such venomous disdain for the king. “Apparently the nuns that raised her are quite learned. I think after this all settles down I may send someone to investigate their library.”

Guy had been in Germany long enough to see the effects of the Lutheran rebellion take hold and papal inquisitions into the reading material of both nobles and the common people. Icy fingers caressed his neck and ghostly voices whispered death cries in his ears. “She’s not a heretic.”

“No, she’s not. But unfortunately she loves the church at a time when the king doesn’t, and for all her intelligence, I haven’t seemed to impress upon her the wisdom of keeping her mouth shut when it comes to certain matters.” Guy could see the poorly suppressed smile on Suffolk’s face and wanted to punch it cleanly off. “She won’t be brought up on charges of heresy; it will be for treason.”

Guy nodded, seeing the next three moves of the chess board play out in vision of the future with painful clarity. “And the king is expecting you to root out whoever wrote it and turn them over for punishment.”

“Exactly.”

“And this is the point where you tell me to break the betrothal or you’ll tell the king it was her.”

Suffolk laughed and the chess board in Guy’s head tipped and the pieces fell in disarray. “No. She made it very clear she has no interest in marrying me and thinks we would be a bad match for each other. And after this little adventure, I suspect she’s correct. I’m rather glad I don’t have to keep her in line for the rest of her life. We’re both too hot headed to survive the politics of court together.”

He couldn’t understand how Charles could know Sabine and not do whatever it took to have her for the rest of his life. Maybe he was just saving face, but if he was doing that, he wouldn’t have admitted that Sabine had turned him down. The finely delineated squares blurred around the edges as he made his next move. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I will tell the king that the pamphlet was written by Simon Fish. Fortunately for us, More has been diligently persecuting heretics since he became chancellor and burnt Mr. Fish at the stake last week. I have paid the publisher a large sum of money to corroborate that story. What I need you to do is keep her from writing anything else. If another pamphlet comes out, the king will be furious with me and I’ve already been banished from court once. I would not care to repeat the experience.”

Guy scratched his cheek as he quickly reviewed the plan in his head. This seemed like a perfect solution, and he didn’t believe in perfect solutions. “I fear your part of this task is easier than mine.”

Charles nodded good-naturedly. “I do not envy you telling her that she needs to be silent. I have a feeling she will not like the message or the messenger.”

Guy ran his hand through his hair. “Perhaps I shall bring her a gift to smooth the way,” he muttered.

“Wise thinking.” Charles stood and donned his cap. “I’m grateful you’re here to handle this. I think telling her father would have had almost the same outcome for Sabine as telling the king.”

Guy stood and held out his hand towards Charles. “Thank you for coming to me with this. I am in your debt.”

Charles shook Guy’s hand. “This all depends on you convincing her to stop writing. I can only protect her once. Next time the king will assign someone else to investigate while I rot away in the Tower and it will be a disaster for all England. The king will have her killed and her father will burn down the city of London for her funeral pyre.”

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep her from endangering herself.”

“May Fortune smile upon your endeavors.

>< 

Sabine returned to her home from visiting with Agnes and entered her rooms to find Guy lounging in one of her chairs, reading a piece of paper that he held in his hand. “What are you doing in here?”

He stood up and inclined his head to her. “I was waiting for you.”

Her ladies undid her cloak and took her gloves as she stood motionless. “Did I know you were coming? I don’t remember you saying anything about it.” Of course, with as many things as she had been trying to get accomplished in the last few days, he could have told her twice and she wouldn’t have remembered. All around her sat open chests in various states of being packed in preparation for her transfer to her soon-to-be husband’s house.

“No. I have something I urgently need to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” Guy looked pointedly at her ladies and Sabine dismissed them with a wave of her hand. After the door was shut behind them, she turned to Guy with a smile. “First you tell me I must take them with me wherever I go, and now you have me dismiss them. I wish you would make up your mind.”

“The Body and the Soul,” he read off of the paper. “Just like the person is made up of two parts, the body and the soul, so should the kingdom have two separate parts, the king and the pope.”

Sabine tried to snatch the paper from him but he held it out of her reach and continued to read. “For when the body desires things that are unwholesome, the soul can provide reason and keep the body from harming itself. Just so, as the king desires things that are deleterious to the life of the king and kingdom, the pope can provide a check on the king and keep him in the way of righteous desire.”

She tried to grab the paper again and this time he let her take it. She folded it over and over and then placed it under one of the books on her desk. “You have no right to go through my papers.”

He gripped her defiantly upturned chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s very well written. I’m quite impressed with your rhetorical skills, but you have to stop writing these things.”

A flush of anger colored her chest and crept up her neck. “Why?”

“Because Suffolk came to me last night and told me that you’re the author of Deadly Sins, and if you don’t stop writing these treasonous pamphlets, the king will have you executed.” Sabine’s hand flew to her throat. “No, it will not be an easy short beheading. You would be burned alive.”

Fear erupted in her eyes but she stiffened her jaw and her spine. “Like the martyrs of old.”

Guy dropped his hand and stalked away from her, clenching his hands repeatedly until he could get his temper under control enough to not yell at her. How foolish could one girl be? “Is that what this is? An attempt to achieve martyrdom?”

Sabine clasped her hands calmly in front of her. “I will not change my beliefs to please the king.”

Guy had no idea how she was so beautiful when she was defying him. He had a brief vision of his future as the nominal lord of his land but Sabine running wild doing anything she pleased and him forgiving her disobedience when she smiled at him. “I’m not asking you to change what you believe. I’m asking you not to publish your beliefs about.”

“But what if my words could help change the king’s mind?” There was nothing she hated more about being at court than the lack of respect paid to the truth as players jockeyed for position and favour.

Maybe he could confiscate all of her paper and ink when they married. Maybe that would keep her in line. At least until she started making her own ink out of berries or some weed she would find out in the fields. She would, too, just to defy him. “Sweet Sabine. The king is set on his pride. He will not take correction from anyone’s hand.”

“I still have a duty to say what is true.”

What did this girl know of duty? She was playing at a game she didn’t understand and with no knowledge of the rules. “What duty? From whom were you given this charge? Women are to be silent and not preach the word of God to men according to the Bible. And yes, I have read the Gospels and the Epistles of Paul. I am not such a heathen as you may think.”

Sabine smoothed away the surprise that had crossed her face at him quoting scripture at her. “That is why I published under anonymous. That way it is not the preaching of a woman.” She smoothed her hands over the front of her skirt. She knew that this was a poor way of defending herself, but none of the men were saying anything.  _Someone_  needed to speak the truth.

Her nervous fiddling with her dress gave Guy his first inkling of hope. Perhaps she realized she was in the wrong after all. “It is still your teaching. And it’s not very anonymous if Suffolk could so easily find out who wrote it. Did you take the pamphlet to the publisher yourself?”

“No. I do have a modicum of sense.”

“Who did you send then?” Sabine didn’t say anything and stared resolutely at the floor in front of her. Guy rubbed his forehead tiredly. They weren’t even married yet and he knew that look. Her answer was going to be disastrous. He steeled himself for the worst. “Who did you send, Sabine?”

“Rachel took it to the publisher for me.”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth a few times as he absorbed the immense stupidity of that act. “You sent it with your maid.”

Sabine looked up at him briefly and dropped her eyes, aware now of the foolishness of her first attempt at subterfuge. “Yes.”

“Who anyone could have followed back to the house, or recognized by the house seal on her cloak?”

She understood now that it hadn’t worked. He didn’t need to keep dwelling on it like she was child being schooled in her letters. “I thought I was being careful.”

Guy wanted to shake some sense into her but he knew it would be a fruitless attempt, not to mention damage the peace that had come to exist between them over the last few days. “Come with me. There is something I want to show you.”

Guy escorted her out into his waiting carriage. No matter how she pouted or pestered, he would not give her any information about where they were going and eventually Sabine fell quiet. She was surprised upon disembarking to see that they were at the Tower. He led her through the grim silence of the stone halls of to a shuttered window. Opening the shutters, he let her look out over a small courtyard. There were several priests as well as a few other officials. A man in dark robes and a black hat he identified as Sir Thomas More, the king’s chancellor. Their attention was all centered on a man tied to a stake with piles of brush and branches at his feet.

Sabine realized what was about to happen and made to leave but Guy stopped her. “I don’t want to watch this, Guy.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re going to watch it. I want you to understand that what you’re doing has consequences.” He pressed her against the window sill so she could not escape the view. Neither one of them could hear what More was saying to the prisoner but then the priests turned their back on the man and guards set torches to the stacks of kindling surrounding the man. Plumes of dark grey smoke arose, quickly followed by tongues of flame licking upward, and then the piles disappeared under waves of fire that bellowed forth. The man began to scream.

Sabine clapped her hands over her ears so she wouldn’t hear the tortured cries but Guy pulled them down. “Listen, Sabine. Listen to your future if you don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“Please let me leave!”

“No. You need to understand this isn’t a game.” He couldn’t force her to keep her eyes open, but he could make her listen. The wind blew the smoke in their direction and the man’s screams of anguish. “This is what will happen, girl. That could be your anguished cries.” The fire enveloped the man, surging upward with a gust of air. The man’s cries eventually cut off, and all that could be heard was the crackle of a raging fire. Guy released his grip on Sabine and she whirled around, burying her face against his jerkin. Guy reverently stroked her hair until the smoke took on the succulent aroma of roasting pork and he quietly closed the shutters. “That’s what happens to you next time, and then your father will raze this city to the ground for retaliation in his anger. Thousands of people will die if you don’t stop your foolishness.”

Her hands were trembling as she nodded her head. “I won’t do it again.”

He tipped her face up to look at him and gently stroked her cheek. “You can always talk to me. I will always listen. But your opinions can go no further than the two of us.”

“Yes, my lord.” Her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were pale.

Her terrified face hurt him worse than the battle wounds he had taken. “I don’t like scaring you, Sabine, but I don’t know how else to keep you safe.”

“I will behave, my lord.”

Guy sighed softly. This is what he had wanted, wasn’t it? Assurance of her good behavior? Then why did it taste so bitter in his mouth. “Come, let us go away from here.”

Sabine took his proffered arm and he led her back to his carriage. Once inside she was very quiet, her eyes fixed out the window. She fiddled with her girdle and he noticed the rubies were interspersed with the pearls in the right pattern for it to serve as a rosary. They were almost back to her house when she said, “I will release you from our betrothal if you do not wish to marry me.”

“Why would I want that?”

“I must be a constant worry to you.”

Guy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “Not a constant worry, no. I thought you beautiful when I first saw you, but it was your spirit in arguing with me combined with your dignity and stubbornness in enduring that horrendous ride out of London that made me fall in love you. I knew what I was getting when I asked you to marry me.”

Her eyes were still rimmed with red but she managed to smile and he lightly kissed her forehead. She slipped her hand into his and found comfort from his warmth. He might grow angry with her, but she knew he would not hurt her. “How soon after the wedding will we depart for your estate?”

“I thought we would take a few days to accustom ourselves to each other, and then we shall depart.”

Sabine stifled a giggle with her hand. “That is a very delicate way of putting it.”

“Well, you have delicate sensibilities.”

“Thank you for your gentlemanly behavior, Lord Corbank. I would hate to have to swoon.” She giggled again, this time not bothering to hide it.

Guy leaned over and whispered in her ear. “But if you swooned, I could carry you up to your room again.”

Her kirtle suddenly felt like it was laced much too tight as desire and fear warred in her belly. “I think you shall have to wait a few more days for that privilege,” she managed to say as she clasped her hands in her lap to hide their shaking.

The tips of her ears had shaded pink and her breathing was suddenly much more rapid and shallow. “Two more days, Sabine.”

She swallowed loudly and twisted the sapphire ring around her finger. “Two more days.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sabine was not particularly surprised when a message arrived from Charles on the morning of her wedding. She had spent the day before at court avoiding him. Every time he approached she found someone else she absolutely must talk to on the other side of the room until Guy was done with his official responsibilities and could join her. She knew she was being ungrateful considering he could have turned her into the king, but she didn’t want to talk to him again until she was safely married. Marrying Guy was the correct decision, she was convinced of that, but she didn’t think she had persuaded Charles of that.

She unfolded the carefully sealed note and read the short message.

_Sabine,_

_You told me I wouldn’t choose you over the king, but now you know that I can. I have, Sabine. I have chosen you. Please, don’t do something you’ll regret and marry him. Come away with me. I can make it right with the king. I can make it right with your father. Send me word and I will come for you straightaway and collect you. I’ll have a carriage with my fastest horses waiting for your decision. Even until you say the words in the church today I shall hope. I love you, Sabine. Don’t marry him. Marry me._

_Charles_

With a sigh, Sabine refolded the note and then tossed it into the fire. Almost all of her belongings were in the process of being moved to her rooms at Guy’s house and the last thing she needed was for someone to discover it and start showing it about. She finished picking at her breakfast and called for her ladies. She needed to get dressed for her wedding.

>< 

Sabine stood at Guy’s left as Archbishop Warham began the wedding ceremony. He took her hand from her father and gave it to Guy. He took her hand and folded back the filmy white veil that had obscured her. At the priest’s prompting, he spoke. “I Guy, Marquess of Corbank, take thee, Sabine, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, in health, to love and to cherish, til death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance. And thereto I plight thee my troth.” He let go of her hand and then it was her turn to take his. She repeated the same words to him, only adding in “to obey” after to cherish.

Guy smiled as she gave herself to him. He had slept ill the night before, convinced that something was going to happen that would prevent their marriage. It seemed impossible that after so many years of anger and toil that his fate had turned around. He had seen Suffolk in the congregation as he had watched Greymont walk Sabine down the aisle and a vision of Sabine seeing him as well and changing her mind, throwing off her veil and running back down the aisle with Suffolk had flashed before his eyes. That nightmare hadn’t been made flesh, and as Guy had folded back her veil, her sweet smile had caused all of his fears to disappear. His only concern now was how pale she looked. He supposed that was probably to be expected though as thoughts of her wedding night loomed large in his mind.

Then the priest handed Guy the ring he had given to her on their betrothal. “With this ring, I thee wed. This gold and this silver I thee give; with my body I thee worship and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” Guy placed the ring on the thumb of her left hand. “ _In nomine Patris,”_ he moved it to her index finger, “ _et Filii,”_ to her middle finger, “ _et Spiritus Sancti”_ and finally on to her ring finger. “ _Amen.”_

Sabine whispered amen as Guy finished the giving of the ring. She was glad that she wasn’t required to remain veiled for the entire ceremony so she could clearly see the radiant smile on his face. There was no hint of the grim soldier she had met that first day in her father’s library. For herself, she was not particularly happy. She had never expected tiredness to be her main emotion on her wedding day, but she was desperately tired. She had not slept well the last few nights. Every time she closed her eyes she heard screaming, and when she did fall asleep her dreams were filled with smoke. The scent of cooked meat made her nauseated. Luckily since it was expected for her to wear her hair completely unbound, that had reduced the amount of time it had taken for her ladies to get her ready. Her dress was blue silk brocade, with a cloth of gold forepart and sleeves. Guy had gifted her a pair of sapphire earrings to wear with her dress, and the neckline of her kirtle was trimmed with pearls. More pearls were embroidered to the bodice of her gown, and even more embellished her sleeves. With the entire court there to witness the ceremony, her father had spared no expense in her attire. It all just felt like unnecessary weight.

She tried to pay attention to the prayer Warham was offering but it wasn’t until Guy was instructed to take her right hand in his that she was fully aware of what was going on. “Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”  Warham officially pronounced them man and wife and then blessed them. Sabine automatically murmured amen whenever prompted throughout the long ceremony.

Guy looked over at Sabine as she slipped her hand unexpectedly into his. His earlier worry strengthened as she swayed slightly on her feet. She had confessed yesterday that she couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares and he was convinced she hadn’t slept the night before either. He squeezed her hand as the psalms were sung. If needs be, he would force someone to get her a chair for the rest of the ceremony, but she remained steady on her feet as they were preached at by the archbishop. Finally, they were led to the altar where they knelt side by side. There was more praying and blessing and preaching, and not for the first time Guy wondered how Sabine found so much meaning in ritual words.

The last part of the wedding ceremony was for the two of them to take the holy communion. A little bit of color bloomed in her cheeks as she took the host. Guy wondered if it really was that restorative for her, or if she was just hungry. He had much to learn about the sensibilities and nervousness of a noble woman.

Finally, everything was completed and Guy escorted her back down the aisle. They exited the church to a rain of wheat and old shoes. Luckily the shoes only hit the carriage and neither of them as Guy helped her in and then climbed in after her. Sabine giggled at a particularly loud thud from outside. Someone must have thrown a boot.

She looked more familiar now, with happiness showing in her face. “Hello, wife.”

Getting to sit down was a relief and she brushed the wheat off her shoulders and décolletage. “Hello, husband.”

“Will you kiss your husband?”

“I will.” She leaned towards him and he gently wrapped his hand around the back of her neck as their mouths touched.

“You are so incredibly beautiful, Sabine,” he said softly before he kissed her again.

Her hands played over his chain of rank and jerkin as they kissed, finally sliding up to twine around his neck. “You are very handsome,” she replied and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I must learn how to make you smile more often, for it makes you quite the most handsome man in the kingdom.”

“If you are happy, then I am happy.” He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose. “Are you happy, my love?”

She kissed the other side of his mouth. “I am. I did not think I would be this happy, but I am.”

They traded kisses again and Guy wrapped her long hair around his hand. Completely unbound it stretched past her waist and glimmered like there were strands of gold thread scattered through it. “I am glad you are happy. I was worried you were going to faint during the ceremony.”

“Just because I am so tired and I have not eaten much. I admit that I have fallen prey to vanity and nerves over the last few days.” She had delicately flushed as they kissed, and the color showed no sign of retreating. Hopefully her nerves had disappeared and would leave her alone for the rest of the celebrations.

“Further proof you are a woman and not an angel.” He combed his hand through her hair, dislodging a few more grains of wheat.

“And you are no beast. I would not love you if you were a beast.”

She had looked down at her lap as she had whispered those words but they had sounded loud in his heart. He kissed her softly. “Are you saying you love me?”

A small smile curved her generous lips. “I promised to do so today in front of God and witnesses.”

He arched an eyebrow at her disingenuous response. “Sabine, don’t prevaricate on this.”

“I love you, husband. It is still a very little love, but I shall nurture it and I believe it will grow.”

“You make me the happiest man in Christendom.” He kissed her again and this time he brushed the tip of his tongue against her lips. He felt her startle and did it again, pressing a bit firmer this time. Her lips parted and he delicately touched her tongue with his. Her soft gasp sounded loud in the confines of the carriage but she didn’t pull away. Again he teased the tip of her tongue with a soft caress and felt her arms tighten around him. He cupped the back of her head and tilted it as he kissed her again.

Sabine threaded her fingers into his hair, giving into the urge she had long suppressed to touch it and see if it was as soft as hers. His tongue coaxed hers into play and she felt faint from the sudden rush of heat that swamped her. There was a soft sound that she didn’t recognize and it took the sound of it repeating for her to realize that it came from her own throat. She pulled back, embarrassed by her reaction, but Guy didn’t let her go.

“Kiss me again, my heart.”

She lifted a hand to her burning cheek and turned away from him. “But…”

“You sound as beautiful as you look.” He let go of her hair to coax her face towards his again. He leaned in but didn’t close the entire distance. He wanted her to want this.

Sabine’s eyes flickered to his mouth and he quickly licked his lips. Her breath hitched at the darting movement and she looked back up at him. His eyes were darker than she remembered them being but she leaned in and kissed him, letting her eyelids flutter shut. Her lips parted enough so she could let her tongue slip against his, and the now recognizable sound was heard again, but this time it came from Guy. Sabine pulled back again, this time in wonder. Her eyes were heavy lidded as she regarded him for a long moment, understanding now why his eyes had darkened. She lightly touched his face, tracing the line of his brow, stroking his cheek, following the line of his jaw. She had never felt the liberty to touch him before but now she needed to know the feel of his skin. The small ruffle above the collar of his jerkin kept her from touching his neck, but she loved the contrast between the smoother skin of his cheek and the rougher texture of his jaw even though he had shaved that day. Finally she dragged the tip of her finger slowly over his bottom lip.

Guy softly licked her finger and Sabine yanked it back. Flowers bloomed in her cheeks as her eyes flew wide open. She looked at her finger and then back to him. Guy tried not to smile as he watched her thinking. He rarely could tell what was going on in her mind when her eyes slightly unfocused like that. He supposed that her not having wiped her finger off on his clothing was a good omen for him. She lifted the finger to her mouth and he watched as she delicately licked her fingertip, right where he had done the same, and then languidly slid it against his bottom lip. Guy lost his breath at the unexpected caress. Her cheeks rounded with a sudden smile and she giggled.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at her newly joyous expression. “Oh, is that what you wanted to see, my lady? That your touch can bring me to my knees?”

“I do not see you on your knees, my lord.” She darted forward and kissed him quickly. “Yet.”

Guy was saved from having to come up with a response as the carriage door was opened by one of Greymont’s footmen. They were back at her house for the wedding feast. As he helped his new bride down from the carriage, he couldn’t help but wonder if he really did know what he had gotten into with her as a wife.

The wedding feast rivaled anything Guy had ever seen at court. Sabine sat next to him, wearing the garland of flowers she had carried at their wedding as a crown. The music was loud and happy, people were dancing, and he kept feeding tidbits of food to Sabine whenever she would look at him. It took a few rejected morsels for him to realize that she was avoiding roasted meats and he cursed internally as he realized that it wasn’t just her sleep that he had disturbed. Still, there was plenty to satisfy her recovering appetite, and he made sure to intersperse the tiny fruit tarts she so loved with the food, and not just because her lips would brush against his fingers to capture every bit of the whipped cream.

Sabine’s father called the room to silence and gave a toast to the new couple. After everyone had drunk, he said, “And now I have a gift for my youngest daughter on her wedding day.” He gestured to his squire who brought forward a small carved chest of alabaster. He removed the top and Sabine gasped as she saw inside. Lying on a fitted black velvet background was an elaborate emerald and diamond parure. “Father, they are beautiful. It is too much.”

“The Marchioness of Corbank will need official jewels. Since the house colors are blue and green, these seemed like a good start. I will leave it up to your husband to acquire the sapphires over the years you will have together.”

Guy sat up taller in his chair as Greymont shot him a look. He recognized her father’s subtle reminder of the duke’s superiority, even though Sabine was so engrossed with the jewelry she hadn’t noticed. “Thank you, father. They are truly lovely. I shall wear them with pride.” Sabine hugged her father for the first time since she was seven.

“Nothing is too good for my daughter.”

There was a general round of applause and her father nodded, accepting the praise as his due. That started a parade of other people bringing gifts, though none came close to matching the expense of Greymont’s gift, which was the way he preferred it. The feast lasted for hours and Guy and Sabine ate and danced and laughed together.

Eventually, it was time for them to be bedded. They went back out to Guy’s carriage amidst cat calls and ribald jokes which Guy understood but Sabine did not. The ride to Guy’s house was completely silent. The playful spirit that had possessed Sabine earlier had fled and she twisted her hands together over and over until Guy finally took one. When they disembarked, his housekeeper showed Sabine and her ladies to her new rooms. Her belongings were already there, though most things were still packed for the coming journey. He had made sure a bible and rosary were laid out with a statue of Mary and candles. He was positive she would want to pray.

For as long as it took to dress her, it seemed to Sabine that it should have taken much longer to undress her. It seemed only seconds before she was raising her arm for Rachel and Frances to slip her nightgown over her head. Frances answered the knock on the door as Rachel helped her into a robe. Sabine relaxed as it was just the priests coming to bless her and the bed.

Guy walked into his wife’s rooms to find her kneeling and being blessed by one priest while another swung a censer of incense over the bed. Again he wondered at the change in his life. He knew the responses required of him in mass, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had been to confession. When they got to his lands, he had a feeling that before she found food for the table that Sabine would find a priest. But that was the reason he loved her, her unearthly goodness. She insisted she wasn’t an angel and he wasn’t a beast, but he knew better.

The priests finished and left, and Rachel helped Sabine remove her robe and get in bed. He caught nothing more than the shadowed outline of her body and the flash of an ankle before Rachel pulled up the blanket. He removed his own robe and joined his wife.  Her ladies tugged the translucent curtains closed around the bed and left, leaving them illuminated by the small fire in the hearth.

Sabine looked straight ahead until she heard the door close behind them. The warmth of Guy’s body next to hers was disconcerting. It was like he was already touching her. She pulled the blankets a little higher.

Guy could not have missed the deathgrip she had on the edge of the blanket if he were blind. He wasn’t sure what to say. Asking her if she was nervous seemed redundant. “Sabine, may I hold your hand?”

“My hand?” she squeaked.

“Just your hand.” Sabine let go of the blanket a finger at a time and held it out to him and he clasped it and rested their joined hands on top of the covers. “There. You are touching your husband in bed and nothing disastrous has happened.” Sabine covered her blushing face with her other hand and Guy could not help his laughter. “I’m sorry, my heart,” he quickly apologized as she tried to tug her hand away. “I’m sorry. Let me hold you for a while. This whole business must seem incredibly foreign to you.”

“Hold me how?”

“Sit up for a moment?”

Sabine pushed herself into a sitting position and Guy stretched out with his arm across her side of the bed. “Rest your head here.” He patted his chest.

She slowly lowered herself, placing her head where he had indicated. She tentatively put her hand over his heart and Guy covered it with his own. “Now, I will just hold you.” He wrapped his arm around her back and let his hand rest on her hip. “Only hold you. Until you are calmer.”

Sabine watched his chest rise and fall, feeling like a boat upon the water. She was fascinated by the patch of chest revealed by the open neck of his nightshirt and the dark hairs sprinkled over it. “What if I don’t get calmer?”

“Then I will continue to wait.”

He sounded different with her ear pressed to his chest. His voice was deeper and vibrated. “We have to consummate our marriage,” she pointed out.

He smoothed his hand over her hip, feeling the gentle curve for the first time. “Not at this exact moment.”

“Tonight though.”

Guy yelled at himself to shut up but he ignored his own advice. “Not necessarily.”

She rose up enough where she could see his face. “There will be talk if there is not blood on the sheets in the morning.”

Guy smoothed her hair back from her face. He was glad she had not braided it for sleep. Feeling it slip through his fingers as they were in bed together had been the subject of many a daydream. “Many betrothed couples anticipate their wedding night, darling. No one will care.”

“I care! I am a virgin and will not have our servants speculating about that matter.”

Her flaring eyes only highlighted the dark circles underneath them. She was so tired and trying to cope with a fundamental change in her life with all the meekness capable in this nerve-wracking moment but even when scared she commanded respect. “Then I will cut myself and squeeze a few drops on the linens if necessary, but I will not force you or hurry you beyond your comfort.”

The sternness she remembered from their first meeting was back, but this time it was different. It was not a shield against the world’s indifference now. He was being stern with her. Or rather for her. He actually cared about the quality of her experience tonight, something she had not expected at all. She lowered her head and rested against his chest again, her thoughts swirling in circles. Guy’s hand stroked slowly up and down her back as she wondered if perhaps his gentleness while courting her had not been a ploy but his actual disposition to her. His entanglements with her father had soured her against his character, but she might have been mistaken. Perhaps his proclamations that he had gone along with the plot as a way to leave all of the muck behind had been honestly said.

Guy felt Sabine slowly relax against his body as he stared at the canopy overhead. She shifted a little at a time, he assumed in pursuit of a more comfortable position with each adjustment. Her cheek rubbed against his chest, and then her arm moved so it was draped across his waist. A minute later he felt her leg bend and she rested her knee on his thigh. She was warm and soft and supple under his hand and he wanted to roll her over onto her back and feel her wrap around him but he would wait another minute before he attempted to kiss her. As responsive as she had been in the carriage earlier, he did not think it would take much coaxing for her to find pleasure in his arms.

He looked down at his wife and was about to tilt her face upwards to kiss when he realized she was sound asleep. With only a little frustration, he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. At least she was relaxed enough to sleep and hopefully tonight there would be no nightmares. Tomorrow would be another day.


	13. Chapter 13

Sabine stirred in the middle of the night, her mind floating towards consciousness with the nagging insistence that something was different. Her eyes drifted open and it took a moment for her to realize that her pillow wasn’t moving, it was her husband breathing. In the dim glow cast by the dying fire she could barely make out his silhouette but his arm was still wrapped comfortably around her waist. A gentle smile crossed her face as she realized that she had fallen asleep and rather than wake her and demand his due, he had let her rest. It was an unexpected tenderness. She stretched up her face and kissed his jaw softly.

Guy woke at the feel of her lips brushing against his face and turned his head towards her. “Having trouble sleeping?” His voice was rough with slumber.

“No. No nightmares. No dreams at all.”

“Good.” He rolled so he was facing her, wishing there was more light in the room so he could see her expression, but unwilling to risk endangering her apparent comfort with him and kissed her softly. Sabine hesitated for just a moment before she laid her hand against his chest and kissed him in return, parting her lips enough to silently communicate her willingness to continue. His arm tightened around her back as their faces tilted, noses brushing against each other as their lips touched over and over and then tongues as well. Sabine’s heart pounded in her ears as she hesitantly stroked her fingers over the exposed hair on his chest. She did not know what was expected or allowed of her and didn’t want to disappoint her new husband with her conduct.

Guy lowered her onto her back as he trailed soft kisses across her jaw and then down the delicate skin of her neck. Her pulse raced erratically under his lips but Sabine found herself tilting her head back so that he might continue his caresses and slid her arms around his neck, content to hold on to him as did what was necessary. It was easier in the darkness to surrender to his touch, to not see him pull at the neckline of her nightgown but simply feel the slide of the linen against her skin. His mouth on her shoulder was warm and the feel of his breath skimming over her skin caused a flush to emerge that heated not just her skin but her whole body.

So far, this was much more enjoyable than what she had expected, though to be honest, she hadn’t known what to expect. She had grown up around enough animals to know what mating entailed, and she had been helping deliver babies for the last several years so she understood that aspect as well, but the only thing she knew about conception was that it was a punishment from God for Eve’s disobedience. But this did not feel like punishment. Guy’s mouth was warm and gentle, and as his hands roamed across her back and sides she found herself arching up against them, desirous of his touches. He captured her mouth again and the touch of his tongue made her moan, and her fingers tightened in his hair as she kissed him in return.

Sabine gasped as Guy’s hand slid over her breast. He lightly squeezed and she took a shaky breath and when his fingers stroked over the nipple, she moaned softly. She had no idea her body would react like this. Guy slid one of his legs between hers and rested his thigh against her core as he began to kiss the other side of her neck, finding skin she had no idea was so sensitive. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing and massaging and rubbing over her nipple. She felt it harden like a pebble as he played with it and then he sucked it into his mouth. Even through her nightgown his tongue felt rough as it played over the delicate flesh. Her fingers scratched heedlessly over his scalp as he tugged at it with his teeth and Sabine arched upwards, pressing her breast against his mouth. Her core rubbed against his thigh as she moved and she groaned with the new spill of heat that poured through her. She repeated the motion, digging her heels into the bed to allow her to rub against his strong leg.

Guy pressed his thigh against her as she moved. He could feel the heat of her through their night clothes. It had been so long since he had made love to a woman rather than just satisfy his needs that he had forgotten how fulfilling it was to bring a woman to her completion but the soft sounds of Sabine’s pleasure stirred his own. He kissed her again, wanting to feel the softness of her lips against his mouth, and was surprised and gratified when she sought out his throat to kiss. Her kisses were slow and soft and the little flicks of her tongue against his skin left scorch marks behind.

He grabbed his nightshirt and pulled it up enough to bare his leg and then tugged up hers. The next move of their bodies let her bare skin rub against his thigh. She froze at the intimate touch and then shoved against his chest with all of her might. Startled by her unexpected response he rolled off of her and she scrambled from the bed.

Sabine grabbed some wood and tossed it on the fire and then used the poker to stir it back to life. She needed the light to keep from succumbing to his touch again.

Guy sat on the edge of the bed watching his bride tend the fire. Her back was as straight as the poker she held in her hand. When she showed no sign of turning around, much less coming back to bed, he asked, “Sabine? Did I do something wrong?”

“It is…it is too much.”

“What is?”

“The pleasure. It should not feel so good. It is a sin.”

His heart ached for her. Nervousness he could understand for her first time, but guilt should find no home here. “No, my heart. You must reach your pleasure so you can conceive.”

“But I am supposed to find sorrow in conception.”

Guy stood and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. She resisted for a moment, but quickly relaxed. “No. Your sorrow is in bearing children. You are commanded to desire your husband and conceive.”

She turned around and looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “When did you become a scholar of the Holy Word?”

He smirked and tightened one arm around her waist while he combed his other hand through her hair, not wanting her to forget how she had felt in his arms. “I developed a very focused interest when I became betrothed to you. I studied the story of Adam and Eve, and the purposes of marriage according to the church. It is to bring forth children, and to prevent fornication, and to provide comfort and help and mutual society.”

Sabine tried to reconcile this with what she had heard before. The priest had told her those things the previous day when he had married them, that marriage was to provide children, but she had not read the story of Adam and Eve in many years. She had always focused on the New Testament, and the only reason that she had as much familiarity with it as she did was because of growing up in the convent. “You are telling me that it is a commandment for me to desire you and that you must stoke my own pleasure so that I may give you a son?”

“Yes, my love.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “This is something that was never preached at the convent.”

“I would not lie to you about this.” He took her hands and led her back towards the bed, sitting upon the edge and held her between his knees. “There is no sin in loving your husband, Sabine, and there is no sin in finding pleasure in what we do together.” Guy slowly began to lift Sabine’s nightgown. She closed her eyes and her chin began to quiver. He stopped, leaving his hands on her thighs with fistfuls of linen. “Sabine.” She didn’t respond. “Sabine, look at me.” Her eyes opened but she bit her lips together. “You stood at my left side as we were married because Eve was taken from the left rib of Adam. This here, your rooms and my rooms, is our Garden of Eden. This is our refuge from the rest of the world. They were naked together and Holy Writ says they were not ashamed. You have no need to be embarrassed with me.”

Her breath quavered in her throat as she shakily nodded. He resumed taking off her gown and she held up her arms to assist him. As he dropped her gown to the floor she clamped one arm over her breasts and her hand covered the juncture of her thighs. Guy stood and pulled back the blankets. “Get into bed, love.” She hopped into bed and tugged the blanket from his hand and up over her chest. He pulled off his own nightgown and dropped it over hers.

Sabine took a quick glance at the naked body of her husband and then looked away. He was well-formed with more hair than she had expected and his muscled chest rippled enticingly in the golden firelight. When he was on the bed next to her she straightened out the blanket so it would cover his waist before she looked at him again. He said that it was a commandment that she desire him, and she recognized that feeling in herself. The feelings that he had evoked in her body were completely new and overwhelming, but knowing that they were the correct feelings to have made them slightly less scary. She reached out a hand to touch his bare chest and then stopped, worried what he might think. Guy took her hand and pressed it to his chest before he slid his hand around the back of her head and pulled her down to kiss him. It only took a minute before she was sighing against his mouth again. He tipped her onto her back and moved over her, kissing down her throat and licking the delicate skin stretched over her collarbone. His hands took turns playing with her breasts, bringing the dusky nipples back to perfect peaks for his tongue to worship. She arched under him and he grabbed her calf and wrapped her leg around him.

Sabine rested her foot in the back of his knee, completely surrendered to the feelings of desire that coursed through her. Maybe at some point she would be able to look back at this moment and think dispassionately about what they had done but for now she just wanted to run her hands over the hard planes of his back and feel the shift of his muscles under his skin as he moved over her. His hardness stirred against her stomach with a size that she found alarming but she knew it couldn’t all be this enjoyable, not if it was expected that she would bleed. But he would minimize the hurt. She knew that as perfectly as she knew anything. He would give her as much pleasure as he could and keep the hurt to a minimum. It was a sobering realization and she pulled his head to hers so she could kiss him. “I love you, Guy,” she whispered into the warmth of his kiss.

He stopped all of their movement to stare down at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her lips enflamed from their kisses, but there was a sweet innocence about her words that belied the pleasure he could see her in face. It hadn’t been a declaration driven of lust but of the contents of her heart. Her words were of inestimable value to him. The self-loathing he had carried for decades had begun to fade in the glow of her tender heart and to hear her declaration of love leached some of the bile that had driven him for so long. He brushed back the damp strands of hair that clung to her face before kissing her brow, her nose and cheeks, the tip of her chin, and finally her mouth. “I love you, too.”

He slid his hand over the gentle curve of her stomach and the thatch of dark curls he had glimpsed before she had yanked up the blanket and further down, letting his fingers wrap around and cup her damp heat. Her legs tried to clamp together but he was already between them. “There’s no need to fear, Sabine. I just want to ready you to take me.” He kissed her again, his other hand going back to her breast, playing with her nipple in the way he had learned she liked. She sighed against him, relaxing again under the slow steady touches of his mouth and hand. He pressed his fingers against her wetness and her eyes flew open. He persisted with the gentle up and down of his finger and her eyes sank shut again and soon her hips were moving in tempo with his touch. He slowly pushed a finger inside of her and savored the groan that ripped from her throat. She was so incredibly hot and tight and as he stroked in and out her nails dug into his shoulders. He kissed up her throat, sucking softly at the gentle skin under her jaw as her breath turned into gasps. Carefully he pressed a second finger in with the first and she cried out his name.

“I’m right here, Sabine.” He lifted up on his elbow so he could watch her face as he touched her clit for the first time. Her mouth fell open but no sound emerged as her body bowed upward. He gently stroked the tiny nub and her nails dug into the bed. Her leg fell from around him as she braced her heels against the mattress. He had not dared to hope that she would be so responsive to him the first time they made love and watching her lose herself both in her pleasure and in her trust of him was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He quickened the pace of his hand, knowing she didn’t know enough to be able to ask for what her body was craving. Her head began to thrash on the pillow and her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Guy rubbed his thumb over her clit faster as he crooked his fingers inside her and her eyes opened, fixing him with a heated look of pleading for some sort of help.

Sabine felt like her entire body was going to fall apart. Her legs trembled and her stomach felt like a kettle of boiling oil. Every breath scalded her lungs. She didn’t know what was wrong but she knew she could not survive this. She forced open her eyes to see her husband, for surely he must know how to fix this calamity, but he did not seem alarmed. He even looked happy as he watched her. His mouth sought out hers once again and then he touched her inside in a way she could not explain and his thumb brushed the little button of pleasure he had found and she could think no more. Lights like stars danced in her vision as she felt her entire body be pierced with beams of light. Her entirety was drawn into the perfect arc of a longbow before she began to shake. Guy held her in his arms and pressed kisses to her forehead as she trembled and gasped for breath.

Before the wonder left her eyes he kissed her sweet mouth again. She clung to him like she hadn’t earlier, her body molding itself to him as his hands caressed her bare skin. He coaxed her legs open and knelt between them, using one hand to position himself as he kept her mind focused on the feel of his mouth and tongue. Slowly he pushed inside her. She stilled and he did not try to fool her with other distractions but he kept his eyes focused on hers. She winced and he felt a tremor race through her as the ridged head popped inside her tight channel but other than that, she showed no discomfort as he sank himself completely inside her. There would be a few drops of blood on the sheet come morning, but just a scant few. He had spent too much time in guards’ barracks and brothels not to have learned a few tricks, and he’d charmed enough ladies into his bed not to have heard the stories of deflowerings both pleasurable and painful. Sabine deserved to have every time he touched her be as perfect as possible, and hopefully she would look back on tonight as a happy start to their marriage instead of something she had merely survived out of responsibility.

Her arms twined about his neck again as he began to move, and when he slid his hand down her leg, she hooked both of them around his hips with little guidance. They kissed at first, but as his thrusts grew more emphatic he rested his forehead against the curve of her nose and slid his hand between their bodies. His thumb found her clit again and her head fell back, dislodging his from its resting place. He balanced his weight on his knees and one hand as he began to stroke her in time with the urgent thrusts of his hips. Her sweet moans filled his ears as he caressed her and he clung to his disintegrating self-control as she moved sinuously underneath him.

Sabine felt like she was dancing, that each move of his body into hers was met with the lift of her hips, that her arms and legs held them together as Guy propelled them further into the song. The insistent ache deep in her belly was growing again but this time she knew what it meant and she let it swell with gladness. For the first time in her life, she loved being a woman.

Sabine’s breathing took on a frantic edge as she struggled to keep up with the demands Guy was placing on her body. The deep thrusts rubbed against something delicious inside of her and his stroking thumb was sending her into paroxysms of pleasure. She finally gave up, trusting in the light to burst forth again, and cried out her husband’s name one more time. Guy grunted out his next few thrusts as her body was perfectly still except for the rhythmic pulsing of her most feminine flesh, and he spilled his seed inside his wife with a triumphant shout.

Sabine gasped for breath as she felt Guy claim her permanently. The hot pulsing sensation gradually ebbed and he collapsed next to her on the bed. She felt unexpectedly empty as he withdrew from her and she snuggled into his side, not minding the fine sheen of sweat that covered both of them. She didn’t want the closeness she felt to end yet. For the first time in years, she knew someone truly loved her. For the first time since her childhood, she wasn’t alone.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Sabine woke with the first light of morning. She clutched the sheet to her chin. Guy was still sleeping soundly, his arm draped across her bare stomach as he snored softly. No one had explained the etiquette for this moment to her. She had assumed that he would have returned to his own rooms after finishing his duties, but he was still here. Was she supposed to simply wait until he awoke so as not to disturb him?

After a few minutes of staring out the window as the sun lightened the sky, she started to inch out from under his grasp. Idleness had never been allowed at the nunnery, and she hadn’t yet managed to break the habit of waking to bells that her ears couldn’t hear but that still ran the rest of her body. She didn’t manage to move very far before he woke and wrapped himself around her, rolling her over so she was tucked against his chest with her head under his chin. He yawned and stroked her hair. “Do you always wake this early or just on special occasions?” Another yawn split his jaw.

His bare chest was right in front of her face and Sabine gently touched the hairs on it, so softly she didn’t even touch the skin. “I’m sorry, my lord. I was trying not to wake you.”

“You should be sorry. I was looking forward to kissing you awake.”

Her heart battered at her ribcage. How had she not known she had to wait for him? Why had nobody told her that? “I truly apologize. I didn’t know.”

He smiled and kissed her, stopping her embarrassed protestations in her mouth, dipping his tongue in and inviting hers out to play but she kept apologizing, even as he was kissing her. Finally he stopped and clasped her face in his hands. “I was teasing you, Sabine.”

“I wish you wouldn’t. I have no idea what is expected of me and so no way to tell which of your comments are in jest and which are serious.”

Being scolded by his wife was a new sensation but he thought it was a rather nice one considering the way it made her beautiful eyes widen in irritation as she actually looked at him instead of the shy glances she had given him last night. “Let me help with that.” He kissed her once more, a slow and gentle touch that had her sighing softly. “I am serious when I say that I want you to spend the morning in bed with me completely naked and with your beautiful legs wrapped around me as I make love to you again.”

Her heavy-lidded eyes snapped open. Sabine’s mouth opened but no words came out, even as her jaw moved helplessly. After a few moments, she shut it again.

Guy swore in his head. Apparently she had reverted to her previous shyness. What was there to be embarrassed about now? She’d already given up her maidenhead. He’d sucked on her breasts and spilled his seed inside her as the firelight had bathed her skin in its golden light. He did  _not_ want to have to start over again. “Too honest?”

Her long dark lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks as she nodded.

“Then how about I stop talking and just kiss you right now?”

Sabine nodded again but still kept her eyes downcast. Guy tilted her face up to his and kissed her. Sabine’s lips barely moved as he pressed his lips against hers, and she didn’t soften at all as he kissed her again. He tried one more time and was met with a similar frozen response. He sighed and fell back against the pillows. What issue would she present to him now that she would have to be coaxed past? “Is something wrong?”

She pulled the sheet up over her again, retreating to her own side of the bed. “I don’t…it is that… You are naked, my lord.”

“Yes. As are you.”

“And it is morning.”

He rolled over on his elbow so he could see her face. Was she serious about this? “That happens every day at about this time.”

“I have not yet said my prayers.”

“They can wait. God is patient.”

“Guy!” She hurriedly crossed herself.

Guy fell back on the pillows again and stared at the canopy overhead. He had known going in to this that she was innocent, but this, he struggled to even come up with a word to describe her fanaticism, seemed to be turning a virtue into a vice. “Are you telling me that you object to being naked with your husband while the sun is shining?”

“It seems most improper.”

“Lady, I am struggling to think of anything we can do outside of a church during the day that you would not object to.”

The grim tone to his voice worried her. She didn’t want him to think that she was refusing to be with him at all. But there was a time and a place for intimacy in the marriage and it was  _not_  during the day. “There is music and good books or we could go for a ride. I do so enjoy riding now that you taught me how to do it correctly.”

“How about we compromise and you ride me right here.”

Sabine laughed at his joke. “You are not a horse, and I am not a little girl to be carried aback.”

Guy didn’t laugh, but a smirk curved his mouth. “No, you most definitely are not.” Guy reached for her with both arms, one hand digging into the fleshy curve of her bum, and then rolled onto his back, bringing her astride him. “Now sit up.”

Sabine braced her hands on either side of his shoulders, her head spinning from his manhandling. “I cannot.”

“Kneel over me like I am a horse, wife.” Her knees sank into the mattress as Guy pushed at her shoulders to help her get upright. She crossed her arms over her breasts and refused to look at him. “Now ride.”

She could feel him stiffening between her legs and didn’t want to move, afraid she might hurt him. How could he expect her to treat him like an animal? He was her husband, not some soulless creature. “I don’t know what you mean. You are not a horse. What am I to do?”

 “I’ve taught you how to ride before. Do you really need another set of lessons so soon?” He grabbed her hips. “Just like you move atop a horse. You do not sit still,” he pulled her forward and then pressed her back, grinding her over his cock, “but you move in time with the creature.” He pushed upward with his hips, rocking her against him. “Just like this.” He kept her hips rotating as he hardened against her. She was so sweet and hot and when she finally got over her crippling modesty would be absolutely perfect. He watched the luscious flex of her hips and thighs and the way her stomach moved as she rode astride him. “That’s right, just like that.” He let his hands slide from her hips know that she knew the motion to maintain. A few seconds later she stopped.

“Keep going, Sabine. You were doing perfect.” His eyes moved up from where the cleft of her thighs pressed against his groin. His eyes narrowed. “Are you crying?”

Sabine rubbed the back of her hand under her eyes.

What was going on now? He was just teaching her a new way to find pleasure. He had looked forward to introducing her to the pleasures of the marital bed and she was ruining it. “Why are you crying? Am I hurting you?”

“No, my lord,” she whispered.

“Then why are you crying?” She didn’t answer and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What is wrong, woman?”

She closed her eyes. Apparently he could force her to face him, but not actually look. “I…this does not feel proper.”

“I am your husband, woman. I  _decide_  what is proper for you. Do you so quickly forget you promised to obey me?” For someone who seemed so concerned about what was proper, she had quickly forgotten what her proper role was in this marriage.

“No, my lord.”

His jaw twisted in anger. The fates were having another, crueler, laugh at him this time. Here he had been thinking that he was about to have a perfect life with a sweet loving wife and she was turning out to be coldly pious. “But you feel no qualms about making me bed you in tears.”

She looked at him then, with her big clear blue eyes that seemed like heaven. “You are a good man, my lord. You would not do that.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched at her misplaced faith in him. “I told you, Sabine. I am a beast.”

“No, Guy. You are not.”

Such a foolish trust she had in him. It was beyond naiveté and she should be thankful that someone worse than him hadn't been appointed to disabuse her of her silly notions. Guy grabbed Sabine’s hips. His fingers dug into her smooth skin as he ground her against him again. Her eyes did not falter from his as he thrust his hips upward and she kept her balance with perfect grace. With a growl he pushed her off of him. Sabine sprawled over the disheveled blankets as Guy climbed out of the bed. He picked up his robe and pulled it on. “The day is yours to do with as you will, wife. If you leave the house, take your ladies with you. I will come to your chambers tonight, Sabine. If you need to leave the fire unlit to tolerate me, then do it, but I will have my rights, whether you cry or not.”

He stormed across the room and yanked open the door to her chambers. “Rachel, see to your lady, and tell Thomas to prepare the household to leave London tomorrow at dawn.”

Rachel looked into the room to see Sabine curled up crying on the bed and then back at Guy. “I thought we weren’t leaving for three more days, my lord.”

Guy stalked off down the hall. “I changed my mind.”


	15. Chapter 15

This was not how Guy had expected to spend the day after his wedding. Sabine sat opposite him picking at her supper. She cut each grape in half before she ate it. It was like watching an exotic animal in a bestiary having a meal. Had she always cut her grapes in half? Was this just to give her something to do other than talk to him? He took a bite of pheasant and continued to watch her. She never looked up at him. She just continued to cut all of her food into smaller and smaller pieces. Every once in a while some small morsel would cross her lips.

“Is there something wrong with the food?”

“No, my lord.”

“You hardly eat.”

“I am not very hungry.”

He rubbed tiredly at his forehead. This morning had been a disaster, almost entirely of his own make he freely admitted, and he had very little experience in earning the forgiveness of women. That was something he normally paid for. But he would try with his young wife. She didn’t deserve the way he had treated her. “You look very pretty.”

She cut another grape in half. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I miss seeing your hair.”

Sabine raised a hand to the gabled hood she was wearing that covered all of her hair. “It is taking some getting used to. I have never worn anything this heavy before. And it takes forever to get my hair bound correctly so it doesn’t show. I almost ordered Rachel to cut my hair short this morning out of frustration.”

“No!”

Sabine dropped the piece of bread she had just picked up.

Guy took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “Do not cut your hair. I think it is very beautiful.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“I think you might find the other style of hood I’ve seen at court easier to wear. It seems like it would weigh less on your delicate neck.”

“The other style?” she asked curiously.

“It’s round rather than all points.” He gestured vaguely around his head.

Sabine covered her mouth with her fingers for a moment to hide her smile. “The French style? Like the ladies Boleyn wear?”

“Yes. Those.”

Sabine hesitated for a moment. Those were much smaller, almost immodestly so. “You do not consider them scandalously bare?”

With her hair he would prefer she be scandalously bare. “No. And I think they would suit your face better.”

Sabine happily gave in to the temptation offered by the smaller hood. “Then I think my ladies and I will make over these. It will give us a project to work on in the carriage as we ride north. Hopefully the new style will not make my head hurt so much.”

Guy’s wine glass clattered to the table. “Does your head hurt you now?”

Sabine flushed and ducked her face again. She did not want her husband to think that all she did was complain. “Yes, my lord.”

“Take off the blasted thing then.”

“Guy!”

He sighed and started what was becoming a familiar refrain. “It is just you and I here. You don’t have to cover your hair when it’s just me.”

“But…” She knew she shouldn’t, it wasn’t proper for a married woman to go around uncovered, but her head did hurt.

“Go ahead and take it off. The servants won’t tell and neither will I.”

Sabine pulled off the hood, the long drape of fabric that fell down the back dragging against her neck as removed it. She handed it to one of the servants, and then began unwrapping and unpinning the turban underneath it. Guy sat back in his chair, hiding his expressing with his wine cup. The fabric gave way to reveal her hair, piled and pinned like a snail shell on top of her head. More pins gave way under her fingers and the long spill of her golden brown hair fell down her back. Her sigh of relief drowned out the soft sound of appreciation he made.

She combed her fingers through her hair. “I must look like a mess.”

“You look beautiful, Sabine.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so sweet to me now, when you were so…” Her eyes darted to the steward and Guy waved all the servants out of the room.

“When I was such a beast to you this morning?”

“You are _not a beast_!”

“And you are raising your voice at your husband,” he said calmly.

She immediately ducked her head. “I’m sorry.”

Guy wet his tongue with a sip of wine. “I like it.”

Her head snapped up. “You like me behaving like a fishwife?”

He smiled as he reached for another fruit tart. “I like seeing your spark. It means you’re not afraid of me.”

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him placidly eat his supper. “You are a very strange man.”

“Yes.”

“You have no sense of propriety.”

“I wouldn’t say _no_ sense, but definitely less of one than yours.” The scrape of his chair on the floor was loud as he stood up and circled around to where his wife sat.

Sabine followed his movements like a mouse watching a cat. “I know you think I am very silly to hold so tightly to my beliefs.”

“Not silly.” He held out his hand and she tentatively placed hers in it and he pulled her to her feet. “Never silly. Incomprehensible at times, but never silly.”

“I don’t think that sounds any better.”

“Sabine, my darling wife, I don’t necessarily share all of your beliefs, but I will try better to respect them.” His fingers trailed up her back until he found the knotted laces of her gown and pulled. “For example, if you look out the window you will notice it is dark.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I will also see that I am in the dining room.”

“I can fix that.” Without any warning he picked her up. Her skirts billowed about them as he tried to open the door, fumbling for the doorknob without being able to see it through the layers of linen and silk brocade. He cursed melodramatically and Sabine giggled at his frustration with seeing his dramatic exit ruined.

“Just put me down and open the door.”

“No.” He kissed her. “Because you are laughing and that is better than how I left you this morning.”

All sign of mirth faded away and her eyes fell. “I am sorry for disappointing you. I should –,”

He kissed her again. “No. I should have been more careful with your tender feelings. I may not be a beast, but I was a brute with you this morning.” He finally managed to open the door. Sabine buried her face against him as the servants looked, smiled and looked away as he carried her to his rooms. One of them, she really was going to have to learn all their names soon, opened the door and Guy nodded and then kicked it shut behind him.

“We’re in your rooms.”

Guy placed her on her feet but did not let her go, looping his arms loosely around her waist.. “Yes we are.”

“And I am correct in assuming that you wish to,” she paused and traced a line of quilting in his jerkin, “do your husbandly duty?”

Guy clasped her face in his hands and tilted it up towards him. “I wish to make love to you, Sabine.”

She blinked several times and her cheeks heated under his fingers. “Is that what I should call it? Making love?”

“Calling it a duty makes it sound like an unpleasant task and I don’t find it so. I don’t want it to be that way for you either.”

Sabine took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. There had been parts of last night she would not mind repeating, and she could do whatever else he demanded of her out of obedience. “Then I should call one of my ladies.”

“I can help you undress, Sabine.”

They idea was so amusing it didn’t even strike her as immodest. “Have you ever served as a lady’s maid, my lord? There are more layers and laces than anyone could deem necessary.”

“I would like to help you and I would like you to help me as well. I think if we are more familiar with each other you might be…”

The feelings she had experienced this morning rushed through her again “Less afraid?” she suggested.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, Sabine. I realized after this morning how badly I must have frightened you with my demands. I want you to be comfortable with me as your husband and that will take time and I will try and be patient.”

Sabine took another deep breath. He was trying to be a good husband for her and she could be a good wife for him. She hesitantly picked at the lacing of his jerkin. Guy took her hand and kissed her fingertips before replacing it. She managed to undo his jerkin and he slid out of it, tossing it on a nearby chair. She turned her attention to his doublet and pulled the top laces loose. She slid her fingers down and undid the second and then the third lacing holes and then stopped as her hands began to tremble and rested her forehead on his chest.

Guy gathered her hair and pulled it to one side, leaving her neck bare. His fingers glided over the soft skin before he found the knot of laces and began to pull them loose. She rested against him as he undid her laces, and her dress loosened. She didn’t let it drop yet, but finished undoing the laces on his doublet instead.

“If I am to take this off, my breeches will have to be unfastened,” he warned.

“How long is your shirt?”

“Not that long.”

“Perhaps you should not take it off just yet then.” She undid the tie of his shirt so the neckline could fall open and then took a deep breath. Her dress slipped down more with her movement and she unfastened her girdle and gathered the long jeweled chain into her hands before placing it on top of his jerkin. “Can you help me off with my dress? It’s supposed to go off over the head and it’s quite difficult to manage by myself.”

“Of course, darling.” Guy knelt at her feet and slipped his hands under her clothes. His fingers closed around her ankles and slid up over her stockings.

“Not there!” she yelped. “My dress.”

He reluctantly released her legs and grabbed the fabric that brushed against the back of his hands.

“That’s my chemise.”

He dropped his hands to the floor and tugged the next layer out.

“That’s my farthingale.”

Guy grabbed the multiple layers of fabric surrounding her feet and held them up for inspection. “What on earth is the purpose of wearing this many layers?”

“I told you that you should have let me call for a maid.”

“So, this is your chemise.” He tugged the white linen that still hung around her calves, short enough to have escaped his grab. “This is your farthingale.” A layer of white with hoops stitched into it dropped from his hand. “What is this?” He held up a layer of burgundy satin.

“That’s my kirtle.”

“And it does what?”

Her blush was almost the same color as the fabric in his hand and she covered her face with her hands. “Well, this one mostly keeps my bosom in place.”

“And it needs to go down to your ankles to do that?”

“Well, some of them are fancy and designed to be shown, but that other layer in your hand,” she tugged at a piece of fabric in his hand that matched her sleeves, “is the forepart so it doesn’t show. Otherwise it would be fancier.”

Guy laughed as he looked up at her. “Women’s fashion is ridiculous.”

“Yes, but how else are we to attract a man’s attention if we are not laced up tight and bedecked with jewels?” She batted her eyelashes at him and laughed.

“All you had to do was smile at me.”

Sabine felt all the air leave her lungs. She slid her fingers through his hair. “And you do not smile near enough to suit me, my lord husband.”

Guy took her hand and kissed it. “I shall try and smile more for you, though I suspect it will not be difficult with you as my wife to find many occasions to smile.”

Sabine did not know what it said about her that she would rather discuss how to remove her clothing than name the velvet furred feeling that had taken up residence in her chest. “Now, if you leave the kirtle alone, you will have to untie the forepart from my dress before you can remove it.”

“And how do I do that?” She tugged her skirts from his hand so they fell correctly and then pulled the fronts of her dress back so he could see where the forepart attached. Guy set to untying all the sets of ribbons that held it in place. “I am beginning to understand why it takes ladies so long to dress.”

“Yes, we are not like you who can take off a few things and be in our shirt and hose.”

“It does seem rather burdensome.” He found the last set of ribbons on the first side and untied them.

Sabine stroked her hand over his shoulder. “Why is your shirt so plain?”

Guy looked down at the unadorned linen. “Because no one sees it and so it does not matter?”

Sabine tugged at the top of her chemise and pulled it up so the embroidery on it was visible. “Just because something is not seen does not mean it cannot be pretty. And besides, I see your shirts now.”

He smirked as he began to untie the other side of the forepart. “Do you want to embroider my shirts, wife?”

“I think I do, husband. It doesn’t have to be flowers. I could do blackwork. A man of your rank should have embroidery on his shirts.”

“How many other men’s shirts have you seen, darling?”

“Absolutely none.” She laughed. “But I have decided. You should have embroidered shirts. And maybe I shall do some smocking at the wrists.”

Guy wasn’t sure what that was, but he had put his heart in this woman’s hands. He ought to trust her enough to put his shirts there as well. “If that will make you happy.” He undid the last tie. “What should your lady’s maid do now?”

“Well, normally someone would take the sleeves off separately, but I think we’ll skip that and just take off my dress now.”

“And how should I go about that?”

“Up over the top.” She held up her arms.

Making sure his hands were only under her dress and not her kirtle as well, Guy slid them up over her hips, letting the skirt bunch on his forearms, and then skimmed them along her sides as he pulled the dress up over her head.

Sabine pulled her arms out of the sleeves and turned away from him as he placed the dress carefully on the chair, needing a moment to recover her calm. It had been fun to tease him about his shirts, but his touch, even through the layers she still wore, was disconcerting.

“I don’t understand how I can take that much off of you and you are still more clothed than I am.”

“Well, if I am ever late to breakfast, now you will understand why.” She unfastened her earrings and felt Guy press against the back of her skirt right before he began to pull her necklace loose, tugging it from down the front of her chemise. The gold links and pearls slid against her décolletage and she shivered. He pulled the first loop over her head and then the second. The necklace slid down her hair and Guy kissed the back of her neck, causing even more goosebumps to break out over her skin.

“What shall I remove now?” he asked, his soft voice stirring her hair.

She turned to look him up and down. “I think you should remove your shoes.”

Guy kicked off the soft shoes. “And now?”

Sabine swallowed loudly in the expectant silence. There were not many more things that could be easily removed without some forfeiture of modesty. “My shoes?”

Guy knelt at her feet and carefully removed one velvet slipper and then the other. “Shall I untie your garters while I am here?” His hands lingered on her ankles as he waited for an answer.

“As long as you don’t look while you do it.” Guy’s hands slid up one of her legs until they found her garter above her knee and untied it. She felt him drop it and then slowly roll her stocking down. Perhaps it would have been easier if she had let him look than to deal with the look in his eyes as his hands trailed over her bare skin. She grabbed his shoulder for balance as he lifted her foot to remove her stocking. His hands moved to her other leg and she stopped breathing. Again he untied her garter, his fingers barely touching her thigh, and then the long slow removal of her stocking. She didn’t look any different because of the newest removals, but she felt like a new creature.

She helped him to his feet and then pressed her body against his, sliding her arms inside the open front of his doublet. This seemed almost as intimate as their lovemaking the night before. She could hear his heart beat and he combed his fingers through her hair, stroking her much the same way she did with Gisborne when she was trying to get him to settle down. It was like their first kiss in the park, where he had held her in the sunshine before things had gotten so much more complicated. She felt safe again and could almost feel the sunshine on her hair. It made her feel brave. “Did I disappoint you last night?”

Guy pulled back enough to look down at her. “No. You were perfect.”

“Then why did you want to do it differently?”

“Is that what you thought? That you had disappointed me?”

“I did not know what to think. I had found it quite overwhelming but lovely as well and I would not have been opposed to doing that with you again. But when we woke up in the morning you scolded me for waking before you kissed me and I know now that you were just in jest, but at the time I was very worried that I had started off my first day as your wife with a horrible mistake.” Sabine knew she was babbling but she couldn’t stop herself as all her worries from the day flowed forth like a winter dam that gives way before the spring floods. “And then you are very much to get used to and I am not used to anyone at all and I know that eventually I shall become accustomed to you in various states of undress but it is still very new and strange and then you wanted me to be on top of you and I didn’t know that people could do that and I’m fairly certain that it is not something I am _supposed_ to do and I did not know people do _that_ during the day, but Rachel assures me that people _do_ that during the day, especially when they are first married and I should not be so scared because you are not a cruel lord. And she reminded me of how gentle you were with me when I was so hurt from riding and that you are patient as well, and that if I am scared or nervous I should tell you and that you would understand and be gentle and teach me, and she also said that she would turn you into a hen if you were cruel to me.” She suddenly stopped. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that part.”

Guy ran his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. No, she probably wasn’t supposed to tell him that part, but he was glad that Rachel had stepped in to help alleviate some of the hurt he had done to her in his ignorance and selfishness. “Did Rachel tell you anything else?”

Sabine nodded.

“Can you tell me what she said?”

“That the reason the priests try to control marital relations so much is because they are jealous that we get to enjoy it and they do not.” Sabine’s eyes widened at Guy’s laughter. “Is that not heresy, my lord?”

“That’s more truth than was ever preached in a church on Sunday.”

“Guy!” Sabine crossed herself and he grabbed her waist before she could storm out of the room.

“Darling, don’t be mad. It is not heresy to note that Cardinal Wolsey lives with a woman and has children by her.”

“That cannot be.”

“I know it to be true myself.”

“But…” she trailed off and looked around her for something solid to hold on to, and finally chose Guy. She rested her head against his chest and Guy stroked her hair again. The movement of her back shifted from breathing to crying and he picked her up in his arms and sat in one of the chairs and cradled her against him.

“Why do you cry, my love?”

“The world makes no sense and I fear heaven is similarly disordered.”

She was such a fragile thing. She had been secluded from winds of fate and fortune for so long, and now it fell to him to protect her from a world that was not of her liking. “Then for tonight, let us not concern ourselves with either. Tonight we will sit here in this chair together and watch the fire that is in front of us, and I shall endeavor to make you laugh.”

She did not feel much like laughing right now, but she would try to be agreeable. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“I have absolutely no idea. But I’m sure I can think of something.”

“If we are to continue sitting in this manner, may I remove my farthingale? It is most awkward.”

Guy stifled the impulse to tell her she should always feel free to remove any articles of clothing and smiled. “Of course.” He placed her back on her feet and she told him to close his eyes. He did so, and she waved a hand in front of his face to see if he responded before she hitched up her kirtle enough to find the ties at her waist and undo them. She removed her forepart as well before she allowed him to open his eyes again.

Her kirtle hung much closer to her body without the hoops underneath it and he pulled her back into his lap. “Do you mind sitting like this?” He rubbed his hand over her thigh, the satin almost as soft as the remembered feel of her skin. Sabine shook her head and let her fingers trail over the skin at the open collar of his shirt. “Do you think that you could get accustomed to sitting with me like this? You in your kirtle and me in my shirt and breeches?”

Sabine was fascinated by the way the fire threw his face into relief as he talked, light and shadow mixing together. She drew her fingers over his face, tracing the lines of his brow and cheekbones. “I think so.” Her finger glossed over his lips and then she bent in to kiss him. He clasped a hand around the back of her head as her mouth pressed against his. She was tender and gentle and kissed him over and over until he couldn’t hold back any longer. His tongue flicked against her mouth and she followed his lead, sliding her arms around his neck as his hands found their home on her back, pulling her closer.

This was what Sabine wanted and hadn’t even known she’d been missing. They kissed until both of them struggled to breathe, and then kissed slower while they regained their bearings. She pushed his doublet off of his shoulders and as the fire in the hearth died down he undid the lacings on her kirtle, loosening the front so he could cup her breast through the linen of her chemise. When there were just glowing embers, Sabine gasped against his mouth, “That thing you did with your hand last night,” she paused as his teeth closed over her earlobe again, “can you do that again?”

Guy tightened his arms around her before standing up and carrying her into his bed chamber. She pulled at his shirt as he removed her last few remaining items of clothing and they toppled onto his bed together. Again they kissed, this time going further afield as he suckled her nipples and she kissed over his chest, nipping at the hard muscles, and tonight she didn’t panic when he slid his hand between her thighs.

Her nails scored lines down his back as he brought her closer and closer to her pleasure and when she finally exploded like fireworks in his arms, the sound of her breathless cry was more beautiful than any music he had ever heard.  He sank himself into her and with the barest coaxing she wrapped her legs around him. Her forehead was beaded with sweat as they moved and he kissed her over and over, wiping away the droplets with his hand and wishing he could erase her memories of this morning as easily. He’d been an idiot to expect her to become accustomed to the man she had only spent a handful of hours with so easily, but they had several weeks of horserides and carriages ahead of them to give them the time she needed to become more comfortable, and a lifetime of her asleep in his arms each night. Even if she never wanted to do anything more than this simple position, he would still be the luckiest man to watch her face like it was now, her head falling back, her mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut, and then the feel of her body tensing under his. She trembled and he thrust, the last few selfish thrusts where he no longer needed to see to her pleasure, and she clung to him as they found their fulfilment together.

A long while later, as they laid in the mostly dark together, Sabine traced each indentation in his chest and stomach with her fingertip. Men were like an entirely different race to her, and she had quickly learned how little she knew about them. Guy’s fingers were in her hair again, where they regularly seemed to find themselves. Maybe she was as foreign to him as he was to hers. She left a kiss on his chest and then one on the tip of his chin. She had much to learn.

“What’s racing through your mind, my dear wife?”

She put aside her philosophical musings for a much more pressing concern. “Do you think I could have some more of those fruit tarts we had with supper?”

Guy grinned as he kissed her. “Of course.” 


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning Guy did have the chance to kiss Sabine awake. She tried to apologize for not returning to her own rooms but he kept kissing her until she understood that he was not displeased by her presence in his bed. Later, after they dressed and were at breakfast, he asked her if she was looking forward to their journey.

“I am not excited about the long journey, but I am looking forward to seeing your home.”

“Our home, Sabine,” he corrected her.

“Our home,” she repeated. It felt odd to have a home after so many years of being basically an orphan. “Do you know much about it?”

“It is an actual castle built for military purposes, not fine and grand like the palaces of London.”

“Then I think it will suit us both very well.”

“Do you not find me fine and grand, my wife?”

His smirk made a shiver run up her spine. He knew even after these few days that she thought him quite impressive. “I think are very grand, husband. Your features are too strong to be considered fine. You can wear the clothes of a fine man, but you will be more comfortable without having to pretend to something you have no desire to be. You do not wish to play at chess with people’s lives, but you can lead them in battle if necessary.”

“And where did you gain this insight?”

“I have eyes that see and ears that hear, my lord. If I did not think I could trust you with my well-being, I could have run away rather than marry you.” She didn’t need to mention by name the man who would have been more than happy to squire her away. “To be the wife of any man would require an adjustment for me, but at least with you I know that my heart will be safe. You are not one who makes idle statements, whether to a woman or a king.”

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Catherine stopped in her daily walk to see who was riding up the road to the house. They rarely had visitors anymore. Since the death of her grace, it had been a very solitary time with only her two ladies for company. Her hands clenched around her book as she realized it was the duke. “Did you know he was returning?” she asked her ladies.

“No miss,” answered Clara.

“I hadn’t heard anything about it. The cook’s going to be in a temper about this.”

Charles reined in his horse. “Miss Brook, enjoying the sunshine, are you?”

Catherine curtsied. “Yes, your grace. It is lovely day. I was not expecting to see you here. Have you tired of London already?” He had spent very little time in Surrey when her grace had been here. It had been obvious that she had been very much in love with him, but it had also been obvious that his affections had cooled. Beyond his frequent absences, she had regularly heard them arguing when he was there. Still, Catherine could see why Margaret had remained enchanted with him. He was very handsome and very charming.

“I imagine you think it impossible to tire of London when you are mewed up here all alone like a hawk.” He had actually forgotten she was here. Margaret had persuaded him to become her ward when both of her parents had died in the last outbreak of sweating sickness. She was a sweet girl with no title but a large fortune. She had so rarely talked to him previously that he still found her voice unfamiliar.

“I think there must be pleasures to be had both at court and here at home and that is why you travel between the two. You cannot find all of what you want in one place.”

What he wanted was to forget Sabine now that she had wed, but he was struck by the girl’s insight. It would be pleasant to have an intelligent conversationalist about for when he wanted to talk. “It is much quieter here than at court and I am looking forward to relaxing for a while. You must join me for dinner and tell me what you enjoy about life here, and what you miss about London.”

“Of course, your grace. It would be an honor.”

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As the sounds and smells of London were left behind them, Sabine relaxed into the cushions of the carriage seat. At least their first day would be blessed with lovely weather for travelling, though she had no illusions that the next few weeks would all receive the same sunshine. She slipped her hand into Guy’s, who had chosen to ride with her in the carriage. He had asked her if she wanted to ride with him today, but she had responded with a blush that she was a bit sore and thought the carriage might be more comfortable for the day. Guy’s knowing smile had been tempered with an edge of gentleness at the memory of their lovemaking the night before. The sound of her asking him to touch her was one he hoped would grow familiar.

“Thank you, my lord. My husband.” She smiled and ducked her head. “Guy. Do you mind if I use your name rather than your title?”

He touched her cheek, wishing that there were tendrils of hair falling around her face that he could touch. “Of course not. And what do you wish to thank me for?”

“Taking me away from London, and from a future that I dreaded.”

His thin lips brushed against her forehead. “Thank you for giving me the future that I’ve always hoped for.”

>< 

Charles regarded the young lady over the rim of his wine glass. She was beautiful, elegant, perfectly mannered, a charming conversationalist, and still a mystery to him. “So, tell me Miss Brook, would you rather stay here or live at court?”

“I cannot think why I would have a reason to be at court. I have no title, and I do not think I would ever draw the attention of his majesty.”

“I could bring you as my ward. There are women there with whom you could socialize. It would be a more varied life than the one you have here.”

Catherine had heard much of court and the king’s behavior from Margaret. Or more correctly, the king’s misbehavior. “I’m not sure I would enjoy court.”

“Why not? It’s the center of everything. There are always things to do or see.”

She smoothed her napkin in her lap. “Of course, you are right, your grace.”

“That’s a very politic answer.”

She smiled benignly and placed a grape in her mouth.

The wine glass dangled from his hand as he leaned forward and rested his elbow on the table. “What is it about court that keeps you from wanting to be there? I have known only a few people who don’t want to be there.”

“What is it that draws your desires there?”

“To be at the side of the king! To be able to fulfill his wishes. To be of service to my king and kingdom.”

“Those are very noble aspirations, your grace.”

“And do you not wish to serve your king?”

“Of course I do, in all earthly matters.”

Charles sank back in his chair and slouched against the arm. She reminded him of Sabine, but with the wit to school her tongue instead of attempting to call all around her to repentance. “You do not approve of the king’s behavior.”

Her spine stiffened and a bit of the color faded from her face. “I have never said that, your grace.”

Charles brushed his fingers over his chin. She reminded him of a spooked deer who had scented a hunter but couldn’t see it. “And you wouldn’t, would you? Even if that’s what you were thinking.”

“I would not dare to speak ill of his highness. He is the king and God’s anointed.”

“And when he breaks the laws of God? What then?”

“It is not my place, your grace,” she stuttered on the honorific. She pushed her chair back and the feet noisily scraped over the floor as she didn’t wait for a servant to help her as she scrambled to drop into a deep curtsey. “I apologize for any offense I have caused you in discussing these matters.”

Charles stood and walked over to her. Her gaze was fixed steadily on the floor as she remained in a curtsey. She was so pleasant of manner and phrase that it was easy for him to forget she was not a lady of rank, used to more freedom in her private conversations. He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face up so he could see her. The candlelight made her skin glow and his thumb brushed almost imperceptibly against her soft skin. “You are smart beyond your years, Miss Brook. You may not want to live at court, but if that desire changes, I think you would be very successful. Indeed, you are wasted here. Your beauty deserves more admirers than can be provided out here in the countryside and your wit deserves an audience.”

Catherine opened her mouth to speak but found that she couldn’t remember how to make her mouth work. His touch seemed to be causing all sorts of problems with the proper function of her body. She couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe either, and she felt fevered. With a tremendous exertion of her will, she forced her body back into proper function. “Thank you, your grace. You are most kind.”  

“Please stand. You don’t need to worry about my temper. You have said nothing that could be taken amiss.”

She slowly stood but her gaze stayed fixed below his face. “I wish the King and his Queen all health and happiness.”

A smile curved Charles’s mouth. “Well spoken, Miss Brook.” He took her hand and reseated her, scooting in her chair himself. He retook his own chair and took another drink of his wine. He decided to change the topic from the court in London. He had scared the sweet thing enough, though it had all been unintentional. “What do you do here?”

“Well, I walk the grounds every day when the weather is pleasant, and I read and embroider.”

“Do you ever go fishing?”

Catherine blinked a few times in surprise. “Fishing, your grace? No. I can’t say that I ever have.”

“Tomorrow I’m taking my son fishing. Why don’t you come along with us?”

She could feel her cheeks coloring but hoped the dim lighting would cover it. It wouldn’t do to act like he was courting her, for there was no way a duke would be interested in an untitled girl like herself. He was simply trying to alleviate the boredom that would plague anyone in her circumstance. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what to do.”

“Don’t worry. If I can teach a seven year old boy how to fish, I’m certain I can teach an intelligent young woman such as you have shown yourself to be.”

“Very well, then. I would be delighted to accompany you on your outing.”

>< 

Sabine was curled in up in a chair in front of the fire waiting for Guy to join her. They had stopped for the night at the estate of a friend of her father’s. She had been amused at dinner watching the knight who owned the property treating her husband with an obsequious servility, though the mostly controlled sneer on Guy’s face had made it obvious that he did not share her reaction. She pulled her robe tighter around her, wondering when Sir John was going to let her husband come to bed. It had been a long day.

Finally, the door opened and he entered. His squire, Philip she remembered, closed the door as Guy waved off his offer of help readying for bed. “What a toadying little man,” he grumbled.

“You must remember, my husband, that you are a man of great rank. Indeed, you may be the highest ranking man to visit this house since my father. And you are a hero. You are the man who saved the king’s life,” she added with a sardonic smile.

His chin lowered as he gave her a look of disapproval. “I suppose you are right. Did I act like that around your father?”

Sabine shook her head, causing the fire to glint off of the golden strands in her hair. “No. You have too much self-respect. My father may cultivate toadies, but he doesn’t invite them into his inner circle.”

Guy rubbed wearily at his face. The politics of being a man of rank had never been something he had thought about. Sabine rose and approached her husband. “May I help you ready for bed?”

His load felt lighter as he looked at the charming face of his bride. “Yes, Sabine. You may.” She began to undo the laces on his jerkin. “Sir John apologized for us having to share a bedroom.”

Sabine ducked her head so that he couldn’t see the smile on her face. “I do not think I mind that much.”

Guy shrugged out of his jerkin and Sabine placed it carefully on top of his trunk. “You don’t?”

She shook her head and Guy stroked his hand over her long hair. “I could never get warm enough sleeping at the convent. With you, that is no longer a problem.”

“And is that the only reason? I keep your feet warm?”

She giggled and then clapped her hand over her mouth. When she had herself back under control she began to unlace his doublet.

Guy smiled and let her continue to undress him. Her actions were answer enough.

>< 

Catherine carefully balanced on the rocks at the edge of the stream and tried to remember the order of movements she was supposed to undertake. She flicked the pole and then sighed in exasperation as the line sailed over the stream and the hook landed in a clump of grass. Charles smiled as she tucked the rod under her arm and began to wind the line around the stick in her other hand.

“Having problems?”

She looked up from her efforts at him. “Yes. I can’t seem to get the hook to go in the water. Even your son is having better luck than I am.”

“He’s been fishing before. Let me help.” Charles quickly spooled the fishing line and handed it back to her. She began letting out a length and he stopped her hand.

“Why are you doing that?”

The feel of his hand on hers was so disconcerting she had to concentrate to talk. “So it has enough length to it when I cast.”

Charles nodded with a sudden understanding of her difficulty. “Ah, that’s the problem you’re facing. Just rest it in your hand and let the line go between two of your fingers.”

Catherine tried to follow his instructions and he adjusted her fingers so they were not closed against the line. “Now, when you cast your rod, the line will slip out on its own to the length it needs.” He adjusted her hands on the fishing rod. “Go ahead and try again.”

He ducked as she brought the rod back right where his face had been and then studiously threw it exactly as she had been instructed. She squealed with delight when the hook plonked into the water. Her eyes were bright as she turned to him. “Now what do I do?”

“You wait to see if you get a bite. You’ll feel the tug on the hook.”

“So I just stand here?”

Charles nodded.

Catherine looked about her. It was a beautiful scene as the creek tumbled over rocks as it made its way through the thick meadow grasses. Trees on the other side of the river beckoned with cool shade as the warm sun beat down upon her head and shoulders. “And you find this activity relaxing?”

“I do. To be able to stand and enjoy the sunshine and the cool breeze without having to worry about anything else is a rare pleasure these days for a man such as me.”

“Then I admit that I am glad to be a simple woman, for I can sit in the shade of a tree and watch the world go by for hours on end and it is accounted me no fault. Indeed, if I bring a little bit of sewing or leave a book open in my lap it is a virtue.”

Charles grinned at her honesty. “Are you trying to tell me, Miss Brook, that you do not enjoy fishing?”

“I believe I am attempting to convey the idea that I would enjoy it more if I were sitting under that tree.” She pointed at a particularly lovely oak that was spreading its branches almost to the edge of the water.

At that moment, she felt a tug on her hook. She jerked the rod back. “What do I do?”

Charles smiled and helped her reel in her first catch, a trout almost a foot in length.

“Congratulations. You’ve caught your lunch!”

Catherine looked at the flapping fish that was bedecking her gown with droplets of water, her face a portrait of worry and concern. “I don’t have to kill it myself, do I?”

“No.” He beckoned to one of his squires who brought a net to retrieve it. “Someone else will take care of that for you, lady.”

She handed him the rod. “Then, since I have successfully fished, I think I am going to walk down the river until I find a place narrow enough for me to cross, and then I shall sit in the shade and watch you catch your supper.”

“Very well, Miss Brook.” He nodded his head with a smile as she dropped a polite curtsey. He watched her walk away and then turned his attention back to the river and his own rod. She was a pretty little thing. Her fortune would bring in offers for her hand even without a title accompanying it, and her sweet face would attract admirers on its own. As her guardian, he would be approached soon about permission to court her, especially if he brought her to London so she would have someone to socialize with now that Margaret was no longer here to attract society. The thought of bringing her to court sat ill in his stomach. She would be beset with suitors, though not all of them would be honorable. The many games he had played to win a woman to his bed flashed through his mind. Would she be strong enough to withstand the advances of someone who decided to make a play for her virtue? And even if she was, did he really want to subject her to that kind of treatment? Watching her pick her way down the rocks with the sunlight glinting off of the rippling water like diamonds at her feet crystalized more than even Sabine’s reproachful words the foulness of his prior behavior.

It was just as he felt a tug on his line that he heard her shriek. He looked downstream, the fish forgotten, in time to see her slip into the river and come up sputtering. Dropping his rod, he charged down the river’s bank and jumped into the water next to her. Luckily it wasn’t very deep. She grabbed his arm and he helped her regain her feet. “Did you decide you wished to be a fish? If you did, it seems that I have caught you now.”

Catherine pressed her hands to her face and then ran them over her dripping hair. “Thank you for your assistance, your grace. I feel quite foolish. I lost my footing as I was trying to see if the water was shallow enough for me to wade across if I removed my boots.”

Charles looked down at the water that was already up to their knees just a few feet from shore. “I’m afraid not. Now that we’re both wet, would you like me to carry you across or should I help you back out here?” He felt his groin stir at the thought of carrying her and feeling her body pressed against his.

Her ladies were both standing on the grass, watching these proceedings like two giant ravens with hands fluttering like wings. “If you could help me out here, I think I should sit in the sun to dry out now, rather than sit in the shade and catch chill.”

He nodded and ignored the disappointment. This was definitely for the best. “Take my hand, I’ll help keep you steady as you climb out.” Her fingers were cold and delicate as they gripped his hand and he put his other arm around her to help keep her steady as the rocks shifted underfoot. It didn’t even take a minute to get her back up onto the grass and he reluctantly released her once he had assured himself she was on stable ground.

“I am so sorry, your grace. You are soaked through now.”

He looked down to find his breeches and boots completely wet, and his shirt damp and clinging in places. His doublet was little worse for wear. “I’ll dry, though I think I will remove my boots for the next while, if it won’t be too scandalous for you to behold me in my hose.”

“As long as you don’t mind that I shall remove mine as well. I fear these shoes may be ruined. I remember now that I used to clamber around the river near my childhood home in my bare feet. Maybe next time I will have more luck that way.”

He stifled the urge to offer to remove her shoes for her. The last thing he should be doing is touching her legs. He plucked a leaf out of her hair and cast it aside. “Then I leave you to your ladies.”

Charles quickly turned and made his way back to where his son was fishing. He stripped off his boots and then, remembering her words about bare feet, his sodden hose as well. With a broad smile, he tousled Edward’s mess of curls and asked his child how the fishing was going. It took a tremendous effort but he kept his attention resolutely fixed on his son and the water.

Half an hour later he gave in to temptation and looked down the river. She was sitting in the sunshine, and he could see her bare feet peeking out from under her skirt. As if she could sense his gaze, her face turned towards him. A shy smile appeared and he smiled back before she ducked her head again and went back to weaving the flowers in her lap into a garland.

He was finding it surprisingly easy to forget Sabine.


	17. Chapter 17

Charles had taken to wandering the grounds of his estate with Catherine in the afternoons, with her ladies trailing after her at a discreet distance and Edward running around chasing butterflies, frogs, or his own imagination. It was the most time he’d ever spent with a woman without trying to kiss her since he had learned what kissing was. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss her. The more time he spent with her, the more beautiful she appeared to him as her gentle spirit and bright mind revealed itself like a flower opening to the sun. He knew it would be improper though, and so he didn’t.

They had been taking these walks for a week when he felt like he could ask her about court again. “Tell me, Miss Brook, is it that you dislike the lady Boleyn or are you a particular admirer of the Queen?”

“I have never shared a word with either, your grace. In fact, I have never seen Lady Boleyn at all. I saw the Queen a few times when I still lived in London. She was the picture of elegance and serenity and always engaged in giving alms or helping the poor.”

He nodded. The king should hire her as a diplomat for her ability to talk at length but say nothing of meaning. “But you think the king’s matter should be settled in favor of Katherine,” he pressed.

“I am sure it is a very complicated matter of which I do not understand the nuances and therefore I shall not render an opinion.”

Charles stopped and a step later, so did Catherine. “Do you think I’m trying to trap you?”

Her delicate face turned up to him and her mouth was quirked in a self-effacing smile. “You are a duke, your grace. You are one of the king’s closest friends and have been since childhood. If I did think that the king was in the wrong, you would hardly be the person I would tell.”

“Margaret told me frequently how much she hated her brother for his behavior. She also vocally hated Anne with a passion of which few women are capable.”

She laughed, a real sound rather than the insipid giggles affected by so many women at court. “Yes, well she had the protection of being both the king’s sister and your wife. I am neither and so I shall keep my counsel to myself.” She walked away from him and he hurried to catch up.

“Would you like to be?”

She stopped again and turned to him. The feather in her jaunty little cap bobbed with the sudden motion. “Are you amusing yourself at my expense, your grace?”

“No, I’m asking you a question. Would you like to be my wife?”

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his smile. “Is this a purely rhetorical question or are you actually asking me to marry you?”

He grinned and scratched his hair. This had not been his intention in taking a walk with her this afternoon. His mouth had gotten ahead of his brain. It was not the first time. “I think I am.”

The color drained from her face and she put a hand to her stomach. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to speak. “And do I have your permission to refuse you? You are my guardian. You have more say in whom I marry than I do.”

“Of course you do. I would not force you to marry anyone that you did not love.”

“And you love me?”

“I’m not sure. I have never felt what I’m feeling before. I’m thinking this may actually be love, as opposed to what I have felt before.”

Again she laughed, and her laugh was not so charming when it was directed at him. “Well, that is reassuring that you think that you  _might_  be in love with me. But no, your grace, with your permission, I shall refuse your generous offer.”

He swallowed away the sudden, unexpected lance of pain her refusal caused. “May I ask why?”

“I am not so foolish as to think I will receive a better offer, but you don’t even know if you love me, and I do not know you well enough to be in love with you, and from what I have heard of you, I would be a fool to even entertain the thought of pursuing a romantic entanglement with your grace.”

The muscles in his jaw twitched in irritation. “From what you’ve heard of me? Was Margaret voluble in enumerating my shortcomings?”

“You left her in tears on multiple occasions, and I recognize the sound of shattering crockery when I hear it. She loved you for all that. Apparently once a woman gives her heart to you, it is irretrievably given, even though you have no use for it after a few days.”

His hands clenched into fists at his side. “And am I not capable of change?”

“Are you, your grace? How long has it been since you told a woman you loved her?”

Charles remained silent.

“I take it that it wasn’t your wife? She’s been dead six weeks and I am at least the second woman to whom you have confessed your love? Am I the second woman you have asked to marry you as well?”

Again he was silent.

She shook her head and he could see the same muscle twitching in her jaw as the one pulsing in his own. “You love women but I doubt you have ever been in love with one. We are pretty playthings for you to slake your lusts and then discard when the novelty has worn off.”

“Maybe I have become a better man!”

“And I am to trust your half-hearted declarations of maybe you are better and maybe you love me and maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky, you will not leave me crying within a week?”

He realized too late that the problem with arguing with intelligent women is that they won on the force of their arguments instead of dissolving into tears and taking the victory through guilt. His shoulders slumped as he realized how poorly he had read her feelings. “You do not care for me in the least degree?”

“You are handsome and charming and you know it and you use it. I am infatuated with you. It is easy to get lost in the blue of your eyes and the shape of your mouth and imagining the feel of your skin, but there cannot be love without trust, and I do not trust you. You offer marriage in a way that not only surprised me but surprised you. It is not just that I don’t trust you.  _You_  don’t even trust you. You would make sure that I would be provided for in a grand manner for the rest of my life, but I would pay for each jewel and gown in tears. I would rather you find me a husband that is less wealthy but capable of actually ensuring my happiness.”

Her relentless scolding made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “You’re seventeen,” he sneered. “What can you possibly know about what would ensure your happiness?”

“Tell me, your grace, have you ever sacrificed yourself for a woman in any way? Or are we only here so long as we provide for your needs and wants? I may not know much of the world, but I know that you made your wife’s life worse to make yours better. Give me a man that loves me more than himself, and I will make him the happiest man in the world. I will love him and serve him and be his helpmeet as God has commanded. I will keep his bed warm, his table filled, and give him sons. Give me a man to whom I can entrust my heart. With you I cannot even entrust my thoughts.”

She turned on her heel and stormed back to the house, her skirt flaring out behind her. He rubbed both of his hands over his face and watched her go. He may have called Sabine an angel, but she had been an angel of mercy. Catherine had all the mercy of the angel of death.

>< 

Guy was about to pull his shirt on when he noticed something different. He stopped and examined the embroidery on the yoke of his shirt. Tiny stitches formed an intricate pattern of black lines. He rubbed his fingertip over the silken threads. The design was repeated around the cuffs. He’d never had an embroidered shirt before. He pulled the shirt on with a smile. She had put so much work into a garment that no one else would see. It was just for him. The stitches brushed against his skin like her kisses and would stay there all day.

>< 

Catherine was avoiding him. She hadn’t been at dinner for the last three days and she was nowhere to be found when he went looking for her to accompany him on a walk or a ride. Finally he cornered her in her rooms. He excused her ladies so it was just him and her, something that he knew was improper, and judging by the wide-eyed stare she was giving him, so did she.

“Do not fear, Miss Brook. I do not mean to impose myself upon you in more than word. I have thought long and hard for the last several weeks about how I treated Margaret. You are not the only woman to rebuke me for you behavior. There was another woman I thought I loved but she sent me to Margaret. She refused to be my Anne Boleyn she said.”

Catherine felt awkward standing in the middle of her own room alone with the duke, who was dressed as formally as she had ever seen him attired. She did not want to invite him to sit and give the impression that she approved of his behavior, and so she stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “She sounds like a wise and virtuous woman.”

“She is. Like you. She is also beautiful, like you. But she doesn’t possess your sensibility. I walked with you every day for a week because I never tired of talking to you. We dined together for a week, spent our evenings over books or cards together for a week, and I never treated you with anything but the utmost respect. You are very beautiful but I find that is not of importance to me because I finally feel like I have found someone to whom I can unburden myself, someone who understands me. And yet there is no way of demonstrating to you that I have changed from the scoundrel that I was to the man I think I should be.”

It was true that he had never spoken an improper word to her. There had not even been a hint of innuendo to his words. It is what made his awkward offer of marriage so surprising. Since that first night in the dining room where he had touched her face, he had given her no indication that he saw her as anything other than a daughter. “Your words are very nice, your grace, but they are hard to prove.”

“I know. It would take years for me to show the truth of what I feel but I would rather spend those years as your husband than not.”

“You are certain now that you wish to marry me?”

“I know it makes no sense and it seems proof of my headlong past still holding sway, but why is it so hard to believe that I love you? You are beautiful and virtuous and intelligent and kind. Edward adores you. I adore you. I believe that I have fallen in love with you. You don’t trust me yet, but I want to give you something that shows how much I trust you.”

He held out a folded piece of paper and she took it from him. She opened it and as she began to read it, her eyes flew to his face in astonishment. He waited for her judgment calmly and she started over at the beginning of the letter.

_I, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, despise Anne Boleyn. She is a cunning and grasping woman, and though she may swear to love Henry, she does so at the beck and call of her father. It is their intention to subvert the king’s will to their own advantage. She is no maiden, and there are many men who could testify of her impurity. I wish with all my heart that God would strike her down and keep our good king from her pollution._

Her hands were shaking when she looked back up at him. “If the king were to hear of this, he would have you banished.”

“At minimum. I would probably end up in prison, if not executed.”

She had no idea how he was remaining so calm while having given her the means to destroy him. “Why would you give this to me?”

“Because I trust you. You have proven yourself able to keep your mouth shut and your words polite. I believe that you do not care for Anne either, but I have no way to prove it.”

She thrust the letter at him. “You must take this and burn it immediately.”

“I trust you with it, Miss Brook. Catherine. Can I please call you Catherine?”

She lit a candle and set the paper on fire and tossed it into the fireplace. “You may call me whatever you like, your grace, but please do not endanger yourself like that in such a way again.”

“Do you worry about my safety?” The thought made him smile. If she worried about him, even a bit, she must have some care for him in her heart.

“You are a fool to put your thoughts in writing like that.”

“I know.” He knew it had been a huge gamble and he ran his hand over his hair. “I don’t know how else to demonstrate that I trust you. I have found in you someone who could share the burdens that I carry. That sounds selfish, but you would restrain me. I would be a better man because of you. You would keep me out of trouble.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him as she made a show of checking to see that the letter had entirely burned and no incriminating scrap had survived. “You obviously need someone to see to your impetuousness.”

“I love you, Catherine. It is like a meeting of souls when we talk or at least I feel it to be so. I have put my life in your hands with the knowledge that it is safe. I do not know what else love could be.”

“Your grace,” she started, overwhelmed by the intensity of his voice and the knowledge that he had given her a weapon and trusted her not to use it against him, “I don’t know –,”

“Please call me Charles.” He claimed her hand and gently wrapped his larger ones around it. “Please call me your husband.”

The soft plea and the way he tilted his head to smile hopefully at her made all of her thoughts fly away like a flock of startled pigeons. Dared she to hope that he had truly changed and was not just seeking her out as the only female around? “I need to think about this. You are very convinced of your love for me, and while your actions here have given me the urge to believe you have changed, I still have to think on this. It is a very large decision to be made.”

Charles could not prevent the disappoint from showing on his face but he quickly smoothed it away. “I understand. I will give you all the time you need and will not bring it up again to press you. If you decide not to take my offer, I promise I will still do the best I can to find you a husband worthy of you. There will be no negative repercussions for you or your future happiness.”

“And you will know that I have accepted your offer if I ever call you by your Christian name, your grace.” She gently extracted her fingers from his warm grasp.

He bowed to her the way he would to a Queen and quietly left her room. Now all he could do was wait. He had missed her conversation over the last few days. Even if she said no, he hoped she would at least talk to him again. He valued her counsel and would miss it if she cut him off entirely.

>< 

Sabine found that sleeping in a new bed every night wasn’t a problem with Guy beside her. Even when their host could provide them with separate rooms for the night, invariably they ended up next to each other. Sabine now waited for Guy to wake before she arose so he could kiss her. She could kiss him for hours. She  _had_  kissed him for hours. It frequently ended up with them making love but sometimes it was nothing more than a desire to show her newfound affection for him throughout the day. It was her new favorite hobby. There were so many different ways to kiss and be kissed. Smiling kisses, warm soft kisses as she sat next to him in the carriage, laughing kisses when she had completely confused him again, polite kisses on the cheek when he helped her with her chair at supper, leaning kisses when they were both on horseback side by side, hungry kisses as he fought with her nightgown, needy kisses as she fought with his.

And then he kissed her between her legs. His lips were soft against her feminine parts and she buried her fingers in his hair to pull him away. “Guy!”

He didn’t respond to her tugging him and when she tried to squirm away he wrapped his arms around her thighs and held her still. She let go of his hair and moved to push his face away but his eyes caught hers right as his tongue pressed inside her. Sabine froze as she felt his tongue curl and stroke against her and then her head fell back on the pillow and she stared at the canopy overhead as he continued to lick her. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hands gently clasped his head as he continued to ready her for him. He usually used his fingers but she would not complain about this new way of bringing her to pleasure. His tongue found her little button of pleasure and he rubbed the flat of his tongue over it several times, causing her to twitch helplessly. He kissed it then and with another gentle lick of his tongue, he sucked it between his firm lips.

Sabine  _loved_  kissing her husband, but she loved being kissed by him even more. Especially when he kissed her right there.

>< 

Charles hurried to his feet as Catherine walked into his study where he was eating his breakfast at his desk. They never breakfasted together, and he was positive she could hear the sudden pounding of his heart at the hope that her appearance here after two more days of her avoiding him presaged good news for his offer. “Miss Brook, you look lovely this morning.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

His smile shrank a few degrees at her use of his title.

“Would you care for something to eat?”

She shook her head in a sharp little gesture. “I would like you to leave.”

Charles put down the teapot that he had lifted in offer. “You want me to leave,” he repeated. “You want me to leave my own house?”

“I want you to leave and go to London for a fortnight. I wish you to surround yourself with the beautiful women of the court. I want you to dance and flirt.” She watched him with a defiant lift to her chin as he sank back into his chair. “I wish for you to go to disreputable establishments where the women do not need encouragement to flirt with you. I need you to test yourself. If, after two weeks have gone by, and you have not succumbed to your carnal urges, if you find that your desire to take me as a wife has not ebbed in the slightest, if you can say with all honesty that your love for me shields you against the want for other women, then return to me and I will accept your offer.” Her face dropped and a slight quaver appeared in her voice as she continued. “If you find, though, that you realize that I was simply someone new to trifle with because I was present and pleasantly sociable, write me a letter and tell me you have changed your mind, and do not return for at least another month so I will have time to school my emotions before seeing you again.”

Charles stood and bowed to her. “Very well. I shall depart immediately.”

She turned and left, pausing in the doorway to look back at him. It was the first time he had seen longing in her face. He painted that image in his memory like a shield.

>< 

Guy and Sabine rode ahead of the others, nudging their horses to greater speed as they climbed another hill. The sky was grey and threatening, and it wasn’t just the wind of their passage that whipped around them. The trees swayed in the face of a coming storm and the flock of sheep they passed was being led to shelter by a shepherd who bobbed his head at the fancy gentleman and his lady. Both of them came to a halt as they crested a hill and they saw Corbank Castle sitting on top of hill across a wide green valley threaded through with a rushing river. All roads north in this area would have to pass through the narrow gap between the hill on which the castle sat and the neighboring range of smallish mountains. Guy held out his hand to Sabine and when she took it, he pulled her into a kiss.

“Welcome home, my lord,” she whispered against his cheek.

Guy felt like he could fly as they kneed their horses forward. Forward and home. His home. Their home.

>< 

It had been sixteen days since Charles had left for London. Catherine had walked out the last three days along the road that he had followed when he had left. The bottom six inches of her skirt were soaked from the morning’s rain that still clung to the grass. The last two days she had told herself that she wasn’t giving him time to journey there and back and she reminded herself that it still probably held true for today unless he had ridden through the night. That’s why her heart fell when she saw a horse and rider heading in her direction. It must be a messenger. She took a deep breath and steeled herself to be able to take the letter without betraying any hurt.

As the rider got closer, though, she realized that it was not a messenger wearing the duke’s emblem. It was the duke himself. Her resolve evaporated and she pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to stop the nervous paroxysms that suddenly plagued her insides.

Charles reined his horse to a halt as he came to her and her ladies and slid from the lathered beast. He took one step towards her. “Catherine.”

She stepped towards him and smiled. “Charles.”

Her ladies turned away as he closed the remaining distance in two strides. His hands gently cradled her face as he gazed down at her. Her fingers closed over the fur lapels of his cloak as she lifted her face to him. His clothes were damp and he smelled of horse but Catherine could not find a single thing wrong with him as his lips gently touched hers. She hesitantly returned the kiss, exerting gentle pressure against his soft mouth, and felt him smile before he pulled away.

“Can I join your walk? I think my horse needs a break after being ridden for so long.”

“Of course, your…,” she paused and blushed. “Of course, Charles.”

He gathered his horse’s reins in one hand and her hand in the other, and they slowly walked home together.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Catherine is said to be seventeen on the show, but in my story she is actually eighteen, and I don’t even feel bad about it since the actress who played her was even older than that.

Guy was exploring his new home, prowling along the battlements to get an idea of how defensible they place was in the event of a war with Scotland. He was under no illusions about his purpose here. Henry wanted someone with combat experience on the northern border in case the constantly simmering hostilities with the neighboring country boiled over into actual warfare. It gave him a sense of purpose again, to have his own land to defend and a wife below stairs who was bathing away the dirt of the road and their journey. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he stared out over the green meadows and hills, contemplating Sabine’s possible reaction to having her bath invaded by her husband. She was much more comfortable with him now, happily removing his shirts or nightshirts as needed, but he wasn’t sure that she was ready for that kind of intimacy anywhere other than bedchamber yet. He would give her a few more months.

He turned as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. His chamberlain, Paul, was approaching.

“My lord, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I thought I should inform you that the lady has ordered that her rooms be moved so they are adjoining yours.”

Guy’s brow furrowed. Why was he being alerted of this? “Well, then do what she says and move them.”

The man twisted his hands nervously. “Are you sure, my lord? The last lord preferred a fair amount of distance between his rooms and those of his lady. It made certain aspects of his life easier.”

Ah. That was something else Sabine was certain to change about how the castle ran as well. He had been correct that her first action upon entering had been having a message sent to the local abbey that the two of them would pay a visit the next day. Her next action, he was positive, would be to completely enchant her new staff with her smile. “I am faithful to my wife, Paul. She speaks with my authority when she is running this household and if you plan on staying here with us, you should learn to obey her as you would me.”

“Yes, my lord. Of course.”

>< 

Charles regarded Catherine across the breakfast table with surprise. “You really want to get married tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why there is any need to wait. You are already my guardian and have control of all of my property as it is. It’s not as if settlements need to be arranged.” She spread a bit of butter across her toast.

Charles sat back and scratched his head. “Well, settlements will have to be arranged for your jointure if nothing else. But don’t you want to wait for family and friends to be notified so they might attend?”

“Don’t take this amiss, my sweet Charles, but if I had friends and family, I wouldn’t be your ward.”

He smiled at her impertinence. “I suppose that is correct. We may not be able to arrange for tomorrow, but soon. Very soon.”

“Good.”

“Are you worried I might change my mind?”

“No. I just don’t want you to suffer.”

“How am I suffering?”

“I have heard that it can be…uncomfortable for a gentleman to not have a means of…release.”

Charles hid his smile behind his hand. “You have heard this?” An eyebrow rose in inquiry.

Her blush almost exactly matched the roses on the table. “I have heard many interesting conversations between women in my life, and I have read a few books.”

He gave up trying to his hide his smile, not that it mattered since she was refusing to look at him anyway, apparently fascinated by the fold of her napkin. “You need not worry your pretty head about my comfort. That’s mostly just a lie that men use to persuade reluctant women into their beds.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “Mostly?”

Trust her to pick up on that one word. He awkwardly adjusted his jerkin. She obviously had some understanding of these matters, but he had no idea how much. The question of how much his late wife had discussed sex with his future wife briefly arose in his head and was mercilessly crushed. “How much knowledge do you have of what happens between a man and a woman?”

“The books had diagrams, so while I have never dabbled with a man myself, I have an idea of what is supposed to happen.”

“Then you know what happens,” he waved gracelessly below his waist, “when a man kisses a woman, and wants to keep kissing her?”

She nodded.

Charles barely resisted heaving a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to explain the basic mechanics to her. “Then you can understand that just as it happens in response to kissing, it will go away after he is done kissing.”

She gnawed on her lip as she looked at him. “And if I kiss you it doesn’t cause you pain?”

“No, sweet girl. It gives me much happiness.”

“Then,” she blushed and ducked her head, “may I kiss you now?”

“Of course.” She crossed to his side of the table and he pulled her down into his lap rather than stand. “You can kiss me whenever you want, my love.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and slowly stroked her back.

Catherine’s eyes fell to his full lips and she leaned in towards him. There was a slight moment of hesitation as she realized that he was waiting for her to kiss him rather than kiss her like he had every night before she retired. His eyes drifted down to her lips and then back up to her eyes, and she heard him swallow. The nervous gesture calmed her and she leaned in to gently brush her lips against his. The softness of his lips still surprised her, and she kissed him again, pressing a little harder and felt him smile.

Her hands slowly crept up the front of his jerkin until she wrapped her arms around his neck. Charles gently tilted her head with a nudge of his nose and let his lips slide over hers. His tongue touched her lips and then dipped into her mouth just enough to glance against hers. He smiled against her mouth again at the happy sound she made in response.

They spent several happy minutes ensconced in his large chair before she reluctantly pulled back. Her chest was heaving as she stroked her fingers gently against his cheek. “I should go now before you get uncomfortable.”

“Don’t stop on my account.”

She stood and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Then I’m going before I get any more tempted to anticipate my wedding vows than I already am.”

He watched her go, wondering if her skirt always swayed that much or if she was adding a little extra movement to it for his benefit, and slumped over, letting his forehead rest against the cool wood of the table. “Soon,” he muttered.

>< 

Guy entered his bedchambers that night to find Sabine sitting on his bed. Her robe was already draped over a chair by the fire. “They haven’t finished moving my rooms yet, but I thought I would join you anyway. I feel like I am back at the convent carrying a candlestick through dark and drafty stone halls.”

“To go visit a man’s bedchamber? Surely you never did that at the convent.”

She laughed and got up off the bed to help him undress. She had gotten much more skilled with the laces on his clothing since that first night. “No. Usually to raid the pantry. I heard many a lecture about gluttony the times I was discovered. Is it my fault that I love sweets so much?”

“Absolutely not.” He forgot he was supposed to be getting undressed and grabbed her bum, pulling her closer to him. “I think you should order the cook that every meal should have sweets with it.”

She smacked his hands away from her bum with a laugh. “And what other orders would you have me give to the staff, assuming they will actually listen to them?” She was still irritated that her order to have her rooms moved had been taken to her husband rather than be automatically obeyed.

“Whatever you like. Have someone find the Corbank banner and have it flown tomorrow. It should be on display when we’re in residence.”

“Yes, m’lord.”  She tugged at her forelock and he grabbed her hands and tugged her onto the bed.

“The only other order I have is just for you.” He rolled her so that her back was flat against the mattress, her hair spilling out around her.

“And what order is that, Guy?”

“Make love to your husband.”

She sank her fingers into his hair and pulled him down so she could feel the heat of his skin against hers. “Gladly.”

>< 

Charles’s bare feet were quiet on the rugs strewn across the floor of Catherine’s bedchamber. The fire crackled in the hearth, providing the only source of light and illuminating the outline of her figure as she stood in her nightgown, watching him. “Good evening, my wife.”

Catherine smiled and curtsied to him. “Good evening, my husband.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and held out a hand to her. She came to him and he pulled her between his thighs. “Let me look at you.”

She pulled the ties at both sides of her nightgown and it slid off of her shoulders and caught where his thighs pressed against hers.

His eyes travelled over her body and then he cupped her face in one large hand. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Even in the dim light he could see her blushing. She fidgeted with the folds of her nightgown that she held in her hands. He stood and kissed her and kept kissing her until she let go of her nightgown and let it fall to the floor so she could hold him. Her arms tightened around his neck when he picked her up and then stepped up onto the bed, kneeling to place her in the center of it, and she refused to loosen them after he laid her down.

Charles didn’t fight her gentle restraint and laid with her, his body half on top of hers, stroking his hand slowly up and down her side from her breast to her knee and back again. As they kissed, his hand broadened its explorations, cupping her bum and pulling her against him, and covering her breast before letting his fingers slide over her nipple, feeling it come to a gentle peak under his touch. Her hands moved from his back to his hair as he kissed down her throat. He anointed her collarbone with soft touches and gentle bites before letting his lips move further south and licking at her pebbled nipple.

Her soft moan of delight made him harden. There was nothing like this sensation in his memory, the feel of his beloved’s skin soft under his touch and the sound of her pleasure that he was causing. She pulled at his nightgown and he quickly discarded it. She seemed to be swept away by the same sensation as her hands and mouth roamed over his body. Kisses were exchanged over and over, lips against lips, mouth against skin, and he was kissing his bride when he finally pressed his hand between her legs and stroked her growing wetness.

She clung to him, pressing her face against the crook of his neck as he touched her, his fingers growing slick in their steady explorations and then pressing inside her body. This was something she had not read about, and even if she had she didn’t think there were words to capture the splendid beauty of the sensations rushing through her body. A sweet ache had hatched deep in her belly and was growing, spreading golden threads of light through her entire body. Another finger joined the first and brushed against a fountain of delight deep within her, causing another rush of light to spread through her. She cried out, the sound muffled against his chest, but he seemed to like it because he touched that spot again to make her repeat it. Another cry of pleasure and he nudged her face up so he could kiss her again.

His hand shifted, and he touched another part of her and she bit his lip in surprise. To her further surprise, he grinned with his lip still between her teeth and as soon as she released it he nipped at her bottom lip in return, tugging gently and then letting his teeth rasp over the delicate skin as he slowly released it. She shuddered at the hot sparkles that cascaded from her lip through her body, causing her nipples to tingle and goosebumps to break out all over. Her fascination with his mouth was overwhelmed by the feelings he was causing between her legs though. The books had promised no such sensation to occur, and it had only been hinted at in conversations, but she felt she could write books and still not encompass the perfection of what was happening. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as the sublime sensations grew overwhelming. Her entire body strained to contain what he was doing to her and causing in her and he murmured reassurances against her ear as he fingers moved faster and circled that mysterious spot that had intensified everything an hundred fold.

Her body arced like a bow and then she shattered like a pane of glass in a storm as Charles kept stroking and kissing her trembling body. She gasped for breath again and again as the sparkles kept shooting through her. “I feel like I’m glowing,” she whispered against his throat where she had hidden her face for a moment as she tried to come to terms with this new knowledge.

Charles’s hand smoothed over her hair as his other arm cradled her against him.  She listened to his heartbeat as she drew patterns in the hair on his chest.  “But, what about you?” she finally asked, as she realized what was resting between their stomachs.

“I wanted to make sure that you received your pleasure first. It will hurt less that way. Hopefully it will not hurt at all.”

“So you waited for your own release to make sure that I would enjoy it? You really do love me.”

“Of course I do.” He tilted her head back so he could look her in the eyes. “I love you, Catherine. I hope never to give you cause to doubt that.”

Catherine smiled and then kissed him, again at a loss for words to describe the warmth that had just bathed her heart at the realization that he had sacrificed for her. That had been her definition of love and he had met it, and the small trepidations concerning his future loyalty that she had brought with her to her marriage shrank in the light of this new knowledge.

Her kiss quickly turned into two, and then three, and she felt Charles kneel between her legs. She kept her eyes closed as he positioned himself and then began to push inside her. He took his time, kissing her over and over as he slowly rocked her body with his, pressing in deeper after each withdrawal, gritting his teeth to keep his claiming of her slow and gentle. He ran his hand down her leg until he could hook it around his hips. When Catherine felt the difference it made, she mirrored the motion with her other leg with no prompting. The feeling of such fullness was unknown to her before and though there had been a slight discomfort at the beginning, there was nothing like the pain she had expected.

With a final shift of his hips, Charles sank himself completely into her. He let out the breath he had been holding and then brushed his hand against her cheek. “Are you alright, my beautiful wife?”

She nodded and lifted her face to kiss him. His lips caught hers again and they began to move together. Charles cupped the top of her head in both of his hands, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, enjoying the feel of his back flexing under her fingers as he moved. It was like learning an entirely new dance and her body was a willing pupil, moving with the slightest coaxing to hold him and take him deeper into her.

Her breathing was becoming labored and she could feel the tension building in his body. Right as she was about to beg for some relief he returned his hand to where it had been previously and touched her softly. Her hips jolted from the movement and he murmured words of love in her ear as her body drew taut again. Her head fell back and his lips were warm on her throat as she cried out his name. The sparkles were back and she held him as he moved rougher than before, his hips jerking with the force of his thrusts and his eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned. She felt him release himself deep inside her body and held him as he collapsed over her. Charles kissed her jaw and gasped for breath once more. She didn’t mind the weight of his body or the feel of his sweat slicked skin; he was hers and she was his, and that was what was important.

>< 

Guy strode through the doors of his castle –  _his!_  – and shrugged off his cloak, knowing his squire, Roderick, was there to grab it before it hit the floor. “Where is my lady wife this fine morning?”

“I haven’t seen the lady emerge from her rooms yet this morning, my lord,” answered Paul, the steward. They’d been at Corbank Castle a few months now and Guy trusted more and more in Paul every day. The man had lived at the castle his entire life and knew the skeletons of every person on the extensive lands going back at least three generations.

“She hasn’t? That’s unlike her.”

Paul wasn’t about to say that it was highly unlikely that she was actually sleeping in her own rooms, either. The household staff had quickly gotten used to the changes the new lady had initiated upon her arrival. Morning prayers in the chapel were now a daily occurrence for most of the servants, the quality and quantity of food served had improved, and the lady had beautifully furnished rooms right next to the lord’s. Though she always entered and exited by her own door, and enjoyed many a happy hour in the beautifully decorated receiving chamber during the day, the servants in charge of cleaning her rooms quickly noised it about in the servants’ quarters that her bed was never slept in and though a fire was laid each night in her bedchamber, they had stopped lighting it because it never saw use.

Guy and Sabine had gotten in a habit of him going out riding each morning while she dressed and then he would return in time for morning prayers after which they would breakfast together. He had never before walked through the heavy oaken doors without finding her standing there waiting for him with a kiss. “Well, I shall have to see what is delaying her this morning.”

He entered her rooms expecting to find her in the final stages of dressing only to discover Rachel and Elizabeth reading. They both jumped to their feet at his unexpected arrival and curtsied. “Is she still asleep?”

“Yes, my lord. I tried to wake her and she said she was in need of further rest.”

Guy’s brow furrowed. “Is she ill?” He didn’t wait for an answer but pushed open the adjoining door. He crossed his own public room with a few long strides and entered his bedchamber to find Sabine soundly asleep, wrapped up in blankets she had tugged up to her chin. He pulled them down enough to reveal her bare shoulder which he kissed.

Her eyes slowly opened and she smiled as they focused on his face. “Are you back already?”

“Are you ill, my love? It is so unlike you to be abed with the sun in the sky.”

“In a manner of speaking. I feel greatly fatigued, and my stomach is troubled.”

“Should I send for a physician?”

“I think he will just confirm what I already have learned. It is exhausting work to carry a child.” A smile slowly crept across her face.

Guy’s face didn’t change for several long seconds. The only motion was his eyes blinking several times.

“My lord? Are you displeased?”

He yanked the blankets the rest of the way back and pressed his hand to her stomach. “You are with child?”

“I believe so.”

He kissed her firmly and then gently pressed his lips to her stomach, right below her navel. With a smile he pulled the blankets back up around her. “You sleep, my darling. Sleep as long as you need. I shall have breakfast sent up to you. You are not to exert yourself at all, for any reason. You will be waited on hand and foot for the entire duration of your confinement.”

She giggled and worked an arm out from under the blanket to gently touch the smile line bracketing his mouth. “I don’t think I need to enter confinement  _quite_  yet, Guy. But I think I will go back to sleep for a little while longer.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her once more. “I love you, Sabine. More now than ever. You have made me the happiest I have ever been.”

She caught the front of his jerkin and pulled him down for another kiss. “I love you too, Guy.”

He tugged the drapes around the bed closed and quietly shut the door behind him as he left. Rachel and Elizabeth curtsied as he stopped in front of them. “She is to lift nothing heavier than her embroidery needle until she is delivered. Understood?”

The two women smiled. “Yes, my lord,” they answered in unison and curtsied again as he left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided that for the time being that I am calling Two Knights and a Pawn finished. We’re through season one of The Tudors, and everyone is at a happy spot, and the next story arc requires a ton of research that I don’t have time to do right now with real life obligations. I do want to come back and write another story with these four characters. I just can’t do it justice right now. So, happy endings for everyone. Yay!


	19. Be Fruitful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just felt like checking in on Guy and Sabine to see how things were going.

Sabine marched into Guy’s private reception room, trailing behind her a worried flock of midwives, Myfyney, Rachel, Elizabeth, and one very perturbed old priest. Her sweaty nightgown clung to her in places and Guy dropped his hand of cards and lurched to his feet as she yelled at him.

“You!” she shouted.

“Sabine, you should be in bed.”

He tried to herd her back towards the door and she slapped his chest. “That’s what caused this problem in the first place. You and our bed.”

“Sabby, you must go back to bed.”

“I will _not_  return to my chamber until I have told you what I came in here to tell you.”

Perhaps it would be easier to allow her to finish than to attempt to return her to her rooms. “And what is that?”

“ _You_  will deliver our next child.”

“My lady, you know that is impossible,” the head midwife said as she tried to steer Sabine back to her chamber.

She rounded on the gentle woman. “I do not  _care_  that it is impossible,” she retorted. “He is as much responsible for this child clawing its way out of my body as I am. He should bear some of the pain.”

“Lady Corbank,” the old priest intoned, “you know that the pain you are undergoing is a judgment from God. It is your place to cleanse yourself of the sin of the world through childbearing.”

Sabine narrowed her eyes and beckoned for the priest to come closer. He approached her as she swayed on her feet and reached out a hand to support her. Sabine punched him squarely in the jaw.

Everyone in the room gasped.

Sabine grabbed her stomach with one hand and Guy’s hand with the other, squeezing it until he felt the bones grind against each other as she grimaced in pain. “I think God is  _mean_ ,” she yelled at the priest when her contraction subsided. “I didn’t eat the apple. I talked to no snake. I have spent my life being a good and obedient woman. I have prayed until I have callouses on my knees. I paid to the have the roof of your church fixed so it wouldn’t leak. I have been a faithful and loving wife, and  _this_  is my reward?”

“Sabby,” Guy murmured as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “let’s take you back to bed.”

“No!” She clutched his embroidered jerkin in both hands, digging her fingers into it as if she feared someone attempting to bodily remove her from him. “I don’t want to go to bed because then the baby will keep coming and it hurts so badly.” There was such pleading in her eyes that his heart ached for her.

“The baby will come regardless of whether you are in bed or not,” the priest said, still massaging his jaw. “The blessed Virgin Mary delivered the Holy Christ Child in a stable.”

Sabby jerked free of Guy’s sheltering arm and went after the priest. He backed up and Guy grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from the old man. “God was mean to the Virgin Mother, too,” Sabine yelled at the priest. “At least I got to have fun getting myself with child. She didn’t even have that lovely experience. Some favour from God that was! A blessing of pain and anguish for her faithfulness. Why does He keep punishing the women who are obedient?” She grabbed the pitcher of wine off the table and Guy intercepted her arm before she could hurl it at the cowering priest.

Guy picked Sabine up and carried her back to her bed. “I will keep the priest from your chamber, but I will not have you hurting yourself or the child by marching around the castle hurling things at people,” he said sternly.

“I don’t like this part,” Sabine muttered as he arranged the pillows behind her.

“I know, my heart.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand.

“It is completely unfair that I am the one in all the pain while you sit out there playing cards in front of a comfortable fire, drinking wine and eating fruit tarts and conversing with… I forgot his name.”

“Lord Franklin.”

“Does he have children?”

“Two sons.”

She scowled at the news. “Someone should punch him right in the face on general principle.”

“I will convey your message.”

Sabine huffed in indignation. “I would punch you in the face but I love you and don’t want to hurt you.”

“Would punching me in the shoulder help you feel a bit better?”

“Maybe.”

He turned so his shoulder was in easy reach and she half-heartedly punched him before starting to cry.

“Oh, darling,” he murmured and held her, stroking her sweaty hair back from her face and rocking her like a tired child. He held her through several contractions, rubbing her back as she struggled to keep breathing through the pain.

She sniffled and pushed him away after a while. “You should go now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! It’s most immodest and improper for you to be in here anyway. You shouldn’t see me like this.”

“If that is your desire, then I will go back in the other room.”

“Please do.” He kissed her brow and got up to leave.

He was almost to the door when she called his name. “Yes, my dear?”

“If that priest says one more word about women being punished for the sin of Eve, you are to throw him from the ramparts immediately.”

Guy laughed and then immediately sobered as she scowled at him. “Yes, my love. I will do as you say.”

>< 

Three hours later, the midwife entered Guy’s reception chamber and curtseyed. “The lady is safely delivered of a son, my lord,” she said with a tired sigh.

Guy dropped his cards, shoved all the money in the pot to Franklin, and ran from the room.

Quietly he opened the door to Sabine’s chamber and entered. She looked up from gazing at the baby in her arms and smiled at him. “Would you like to meet your son?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the tiny infant in his wife’s arms. Large dark blue eyes stared up at him, blinking slowly in the new light. “He’s perfect.”

Sabine nodded and brushed a fingertip against his cheek. He turned his face towards the touch. “Absolutely perfect,” she whispered. The baby captured her fingertip in his mouth and started to suck. Sabine pulled open the dressing gown she was wearing and helped the infant latch on to her breast. Guy watched in awed silence as his son began to nurse, listening to the soft sucking noises that were more beautiful than any music he had ever heard. Sabine was mesmerized by the infant in her arms, but finally looked up at her husband. “You can touch him, my lord.”

His hand shook as he carefully stroked the soft cap of downy baby hair. “I don’t want to disturb him as he eats.”

“You won’t disturb him.” She unwrapped the blanket from around the child enough to free one of his hands. “Look at his perfect little fingers. They are so tiny and yet they have fingernails and everything.”

Guy took his son’s hand in his, and the small fingers gripped his large one. He moved his hand and the child refused to let go, continuing to cling to his father’s finger. Guy swallowed back the lump in his throat. “You have given me everything, Sabine. Everything I have ever wanted.” He kissed her forehead.

“We should make a large donation to the abbey in thankfulness for his safe delivery,” Sabine said softly, not wanting to startle the child who had stopped sucking and started to sleep.

“And for yours.”

Sabine closed her eyes and sighed. A frown crossed her face. “I think I have many things to confess. Will you send in the priest?”

“No. You do not need to confess anything. You are perfect.” He cupped her cheek with his free hand and kissed her until she smiled again.

“But I punched the priest, my lord.”

“He deserved it.” Guy had almost punched the man himself when, upon returning to his chamber, the priest had started to lecture him about the need to teach his wife meekness, manners, and respect for the church. Instead, he had ordered Roderick to escort the father to another room where he wouldn’t disturb anyone but could be summoned if there were an emergency.

Sabine looked up at him in shock and then started to giggle. She tried to stop but dissolved into laughter instead. “He is the most  _pompous_  arrogant man I have ever met. He needs a good sermon on humility, and then perhaps he can be convinced to wash seven times in the river. He reeks of more than incense and the love of God.”

Guy grinned at her and kissed her again. “I love you, Sabby, and I love our son. What shall we name him?”

“I think we should name him John after the apostle Jesus loved most, for I love him above anyone else except you, dear husband.”

“John, then. My little John.”


End file.
